Dark is the Knight
by Speaker-to-Customers
Summary: What if Gorion's Ward and Jaheira hated each other on sight? T'rissae is a drow brought up by humans, with no memory of her original life, knowing of her people only from books. When she leaves Candlekeep she wants to find out about her family, solve the mystery of why her memory was wiped, and to become a Silverhair Knight and serve Eilistraee. But mostly she wants to stay alive.
1. Prologue: Lies My Father Told Me

Author's note: this story was written more or less to NaNoWriMo rules, although not registered with that forum, as part of my plan to get myself back into the habit of writing regularly. It is finished, at 79,000 words, and I'll be posting chapters probably on a daily basis. It's also an experiment in writing in first person (apart from the third person POV prologue), not my usual habit, and my usual meticulous attention to detail has been, to some extent, scrapped for the sake of speed. It may be a bit rougher than you are used to from me, and the majority of the side-quests have been merely mentioned in passing rather than described in detail as I do in works like the 'Tabula Avatar' series. Also the protagonist, T'rissae, might come over as a bit of a Mary-Sue – non-standard race and character class combination, very physically capable, exotic appearance, and so on. This is partly because of the limitations of writing in first person; she's not going to mention flaws if she's not aware they exist. About the only flaws that will become evident in this story are that she's something of a grammar Nazi and has a weakness for bad puns.

The sequel, already in progress, is another matter…

_**Dark is the Knight**_

**Prologue: Lies My Father Told Me**

T'rissae danced across the training ground. The greatsword in her hands flashed as she whirled, slashed, and thrust. The training dummies came apart under a rain of blows. It would have seemed like a normal practice session for an expert swordswoman if it wasn't for one thing; she wore no clothes. The black skin of her naked body blended into the night but her pure white hair stood out in the moonlight.

"I wonder," Gorion remarked, "if I made a mistake telling her that her mother was a priestess of Eilistraee."

"I do not see what else thou could have said," Tethtoril replied. "She is a Drow, after all, and we needed her to grow up inclined towards Good. It was almost the only possible choice of role model… and, after all, it might even be true."

"I very much doubt it," Gorion said. "Her name would be a feasible choice for an Eilistraeean, I suppose, and her mother must have been some kind of exile from Drow society, but why would an Eilistraeean have associated with the worshippers of Bhaal? I suspect it is more likely that she was a devotee of Kiaransalee, or perhaps a follower of Bhaal all along. Not a background to inspire pride. I don't see that I had a choice… but it still sits ill with me that I had to construct a web of lies and half-truths. And it has had… unexpected results." He gestured in the direction of the naked dancer.

Tethtoril laughed. "She has taken her study of the principles of Eilistraee seriously, indeed," he said. "At least she tries to accommodate human sensibilities by performing her rituals at times when the guards are not around to be offended… or aroused. And it does amuse Theodon and Jessup greatly."

"Still it has caused problems," Gorion said, "but I cannot complain. Her ambition to become a Silverhair Knight is truly a worthy ideal. I don't know if it will be possible for her, especially if her status as one of the Children should become known, but the very fact that she aims at it gives me hope."

"Ulraunt still doubts," Tethtoril said.

"I cannot really blame him," Gorion said. "T'rissae inherits Evil from both sides. The daughter of a Drow and the God of Murder. Can nurture overcome nature? We will not know until she is tested."

"I sense," Tethtoril said, "that the testing will come soon."

"I fear you are right," Gorion agreed. "This iron crisis, and the rise in banditry, is bad in itself but I suspect that it is only part of something… darker. Something that may penetrate this fastness. T'rissae does… stand out somewhat. It was never possible to keep her presence secret and, once someone begins to look, they will find her quickly. I may have to take her away from here in the near future."

"And… the other?" Tethtoril queried.

Gorion shook his head. "Imoen is far better hidden," he said. "T'rissae cannot help but draw attention. Imoen is invisible in her humble station. With T'rissae gone Imoen will be safe."

"But less prepared for any role in the troubles to come," Tethtoril pointed out.

"True," Gorion conceded, "but so long as she remains unsuspected, those of the Children who believe that the last one standing will inherit Bhaal's legacy will not target her. And if they are correct in that belief… the legacy may pass to a girl who is bright, and somewhat mischievous, but otherwise completely normal. I hope it does not come to that. I shall do my best to help T'rissae remain alive, and true to the ideals that make her a Paladin in all but name, but if I fail at least Imoen will still be safe. Even Ulraunt has no idea of her true identity."

"Then T'rissae will act as something of a stalking horse," Tethtoril said, "to draw peril away from Imoen."

"Putting it that way makes it sound far more callous than my actual intention," said Gorion, "but I suppose you have a point. Things will be difficult for T'rissae in any event. A Drow, and a Bhaalspawn, in a world in which both are reviled and mistrusted. I believe that she is up to the challenge but we won't know until she faces real peril." He sighed. "I have a feeling that she will face it all too soon."

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Disclaimer: the rights to the Baldur's Gate series belong to a lot of people, including Wizards of the Coast/Hasbro, Bioware, Atari, and Beamdog. None of them are me. I'm using the characters and situations purely on a non-profit basis.


	2. Chapter 1: Crying In The Rain

**Chapter One: Crying In The Rain**

I never knew my parents… or, at least, I didn't remember them. Gorion had told me that my mother was a priestess of Eilistraee, whom he had known in his adventuring days, but he confessed that he knew almost nothing of my father other than that he, too, had been a Drow. According to Gorion my parents had separated, either before my birth or shortly afterwards, but that was all he knew. He had, he said, lost touch with my mother when I was an infant until, one day, he received a message from her saying that she was in danger and needed help. He hurried to her but was too late to save her. He found her dead and me injured and unconscious. Since then he has brought me up, as his ward, in the library fortress of Candlekeep. Quiet, conducive to learning, safe and secure… until it wasn't. But I get ahead of my tale.

Gorion still went out adventuring, on occasion, but never took me with him until one day, early in the month of Mirtul, he told me to prepare for a journey. He gave me some coin and told me to purchase weapons and equipment. I had been out of Candlekeep before, although rarely and never far; short expeditions with Watchers to teach me hunting and camping skills. I assumed this was something similar and did not see it as of great importance. The only difference was that on previous trips I had been loaned weapons rather than owning my own. If I had my own sword, I could perform the ritual of the Sword Dance, binding the blade to me; I had only read of the ritual and looked forward to being able to try it for real. I wanted the finest blade Winthrop had in stock, of course, and a crossbow for distance work, and the best armor I could afford; accumulating as much coin as I could, before visiting the store, seemed wise. I therefore went about the complex asking all I met if they had chores I could do, or messages I could run, to earn a little extra.

Thus it was that I walked into the priests' bunkhouse and there found myself confronted by a stranger. Not a priest, nor a Watcher, but a man unknown to me, grubby and smelling of horses, dressed in the garb of a servant or manual laborer. I assumed that he must be a groom accompanying one of the nobles or scholars visiting Candlekeep. The only odd thing was his presence in the priests' quarters.

"Can I help you?" I asked.

"Oh, goodie, goodie!" the man exclaimed. "I've gone and found you first. You are the ward of Gorion, no doubt?"

"I am," I replied. "What can I do for you?"

"Oh, our encounter will be quite simple for you," the man said, stepping toward me. "Plainly put, I have made it my mission to end your life. Success will mean a little respect among my peers." He pulled out a knife from his belt. "So, you see, you can do very little except… die!" He lunged as he spoke, his knife thrusting at my eyes.

I was so surprised that I almost didn't react in time. I dodged, but the knife just caught my forehead, inflicting what felt like a mere scratch. I backed away, until I had put a table between myself and the stranger, and then saw a stool and snatched it up.

"Whatever this is, stop," I warned, raising the stool. "I will defend myself. If it is some kind of test, then abandon it lest you be injured."

"I'm not scared of a girl with a chair," the stranger said, grinning widely. He sidled around the table, knife poised. "Give up, darkie. I'll make it quick and painless."

To a human, unfamiliar with the Drow, I must have seemed no more than a woman of little over average height and slim of build. Yet I was strong; the Drow were stronger for their size than humans, so that a Drow of average size, although much smaller than an average human, was roughly equal in strength. I was big for a Drow and thus strong by any standards, stronger in fact than any of the Watchers, although I had never been able to test myself against a truly mighty warrior. Had I been a six-foot-tall human male, weighing two hundred pounds, no doubt he would have taken me seriously. Instead he ignored my warning and came at me for another thrust. I hit him, as hard as I could, with the stool.

It broke apart with the impact. So did his head.

I gasped in horror when I saw what I had done. The side of his head was caved in and it was obvious that he had been either slain outright or else was too close to death to be saved. I dropped what was left of the stool, turned, and raced out of the building.

Parda, one of the priests, met me outside. "Why, T'rissae, you have cut yourself above the brow, there," he said, then his eyes widened. "What is wrong, child? Something in your eyes tells me that something is very wrong indeed."

"I… I've killed someone," I gasped out. "There was a man in there, a stranger, he smelled like the stables, and he… he tried to kill me and I hit him with a stool and he's… dead."

Parda frowned. "Ah. Gorion feared something like this might happen. Calm yourself, child, you are not to blame. I shall see to the removal of the… body. Equip yourself for a journey, and possible combat, and meet Gorion on the steps of the library."

I took a deep breath. I realized that I had been trembling but now I managed to regain control of myself. "I need a few more coins to make up the difference between a mail hauberk and splint armor," I said. "I have errands to run for Fuller, and Hull, and Dreppin."

"I suppose that will do no harm," Parda said, "and you may need the coin. But do not take too long."

Fifteen minutes later I was regretting my decision to continue with my errands. I went into the smaller of the two bunkhouses, after delivering a sheaf of crossbow bolts to Fuller in the larger one, and once again I was confronted by a stranger. Like the first, he was dirty and ill-clad, and like the first he pulled out a knife. This time, though, I was armed too; I had not yet purchased a sword, and loading my new crossbow would take too long to be helpful, but Fuller had gifted me a dagger. A fine blade, that he claimed was enchanted, and I drew it the moment I saw his knife.

"'Ere there," the man said. "You're Gorion's little whelp, ain't you? Yeah, you match the description. You don't look so dangerous to me."

"I killed your… colleague," I warned. "Leave now, and you live."

The stranger laughed. "I'll leave with your 'ead," he said, "and then I'll be set for life." He stepped forward and aimed a thrust at my throat.

I did not want to kill him. It would be wiser to take him alive so that he could reveal who wanted me dead, and why, but I was not trained to subdue. My training had concentrated on the two-handed sword, with the crossbow for distance because it was simpler to learn than the bow, and I had relatively little experience with daggers. And, to tell the truth, I was more than a little frightened. No doubt a skilled knife-fighter would have killed me… but this man was far from skilled. I wonder, now, if he and the other had been sent merely to flush me out, and they were never meant to succeed… but again I get ahead of myself.

I seized his wrist as he struck and held back his thrust. I aimed a stab at him, somewhat half-heartedly, and he caught my wrist in the same manner. We grappled like that for a moment but I was the stronger by far. I held him off without difficulty, whereas he strained mightily to hold back my knife, and I was not exerting my full strength.

"Who sent you?" I demanded, as we strove. "And how did you get into Candlekeep?"

"'Ow stupid d'you think I am?" the man growled. "Squealers don't live long." He drove his forehead toward my face. I was surprised, but my reflexes are fast, and I ducked to take the blow on my own forehead. Our heads clashed. I was hurt, and perhaps a little dazed, but he came off the worst. He reeled, his grip on my arm slackened, and I drove my dagger into his throat before I could think to do otherwise.

He fell without even a scream, blood spurting, and I backed away from the sight. I did not want him to die… but the abilities that I shared with Paladins did not include Lay On Hands and I could do no spells of healing. Quickly I ran from the bunkhouse and, as soon as I was outside, I began shouting for help.

A priest called Karan was first to arrive with Fuller not far behind.

"What is it, my child?" Karan asked.

"Someone tried to kill me," I explained. "A stranger. He tried to stab me, we fought, and I stabbed him. I think he is dying."

"Stay here," Fuller said. "I'll check it out." He hefted his quarterstaff and went into the bunkhouse.

"There was another," I told Karan. "A man tried to stab me in the priests' quarters when I went in to collect a healing potion. I hit him with a stool and… killed him. Oh, Karan, what is happening to this place?"

"It's not this place, child, it is you they're after," Karan said.

"Why me?" I asked. "Because I am a Drow? There is nothing else special about me. But why would anyone send hirelings to kill me here? What harm do I do to anyone whilst I am secluded in Candlekeep? I have not spoken about my ambition to become a Silverhair Knight to anyone outside this place."

Fuller came back out of the bunkhouse while I was speaking. "The man is dead," he announced.

"I feared as much," I said. "I wanted to ask him why he attacked me."

"Ask Gorion," Karan advised. "He knows much, although he has told me little. He awaits you on the library steps. Finish equipping yourself, as quickly as possible, and go to him."

I did as he suggested. I approached the library clad in a mail hauberk, of the type known in common parlance as 'chainmail' although armorers despise the term, and I had a two-handed sword slung across my back in a split scabbard that facilitated a draw from that position. A light crossbow hung at my belt and the dagger, with the blood cleaned from it, was sheathed in my right boot. I carried my bedroll and provisions in a bag that I held in my hand, for Fuller had advised me that a pack on my back could hamper me in the event of an unexpected attack, whereas the bag could be simply dropped and picked up after the combat was resolved.

Imoen intercepted me on my way to Gorion. "Heya, Trissie!" she greeted me. "Wow, don't you look like the model adventurer? So ol' Gorion's taking you on a journey, huh? I never get to go anywhere. Wish I could go with you."

She was the foster-daughter of Winthrop the innkeeper, the closest to my own age of any of the residents of Candlekeep, and I counted her as my closest friend. She had been a small child when she first arrived, whereas I had been going through puberty, but humans age faster and by now she had almost caught me up. It did not occur to me until long afterwards that this was a clue that something was very wrong with Gorion's account of my own fostering.

"I could ask if you could come too," I said, "but I don't know where we're going or how long we'll be away."

"It wouldn't be any use," she said. "Gorion would never even let you finish the sentence. Especially after what that letter of his said… did I say that? Nope, never saw no letter. Hey, what was all that fuss about before? I heard you yelling but by the time I got there you'd gone."

I started to tell her about the attacks but, before I'd got very far, Gorion came down from the library steps and interrupted.

"Ah, Imoen," he said, "I believe Winthrop is waiting for you in the inn. He has some chores for you. I would advise you to hurry."

Imoen pouted but scurried off. Gorion then turned to me.

"Ah, my child, I am glad you did not take longer," he said. "This is very unnerving, I know, but you must trust me. I see you have packed your possessions and equipped yourself. We must leave at once. The keep is well protected but not invulnerable."

"I have already found that out," I said. "Where are we going?"

"Alas, I cannot tell you, for I have not fully decided yet," Gorion said. "All that is certain is that we will be far safer on the move. We will call at the Friendly Arm Inn, where I am expecting my friends Khalid and Jaheira to be waiting, but after that I am not sure. Perhaps some secluded place in the woods, or perhaps the city of Baldur's Gate might offer cover amidst its teeming throngs of people. I shall think further on this, as we go, but it is important that we leave immediately."

I tried to get him to tell me more, as we walked across the moors, but he refused to expand upon the little that he had told me. Eventually I gave up and stopped pestering him. We trudged on in silence as the sun dipped lower and sank below the horizon. The moon was a crescent and the night was dark; no problem for me, of course, but Gorion stumbled a few times until he conjured a light from his staff.

"Why aren't we following the road?" I asked him. "Surely that would be an easier path."

"And a more predictable path, T'rissae," he replied. "Quiet, my child, and let us hurry. I feel signs of a storm in the air and we will not reach the Friendly Arm Inn before it breaks. I know of a place where we can make camp and it is close at hand."

I respected Gorion greatly but this expedition seemed to be poorly organized. Hasty, ill-planned, and badly-timed. Surely it would have been better to set off early in the morning, so that we could have marched during the day and arrived at the Friendly Arm Inn before dark? Travelling by night didn't bother me, of course, but it was not ideal for Gorion. I guessed that he had planned for us to leave the next day but the attempts on my life had spurred him into a hasty departure. But what was it all about? Once we had halted, to camp for the rest of the night, I would demand answers.

We reached a region where the earth was bare of grass, and stones were set into the ground to form rough circles, and there were traces of ash and charred wood in patches inside the circles. I guessed this was the camp site that Gorion had mentioned. "Ah, here we are," Gorion said, confirming my guess, and then I heard footsteps ahead. Heavy footsteps, too heavy to be those of a human or elf, and I could see moving shapes approaching.

"Wait!" Gorion exclaimed. "There is something wrong. We are in an ambush! Prepare yourself."

I dropped my bag, unhooked my crossbow from the sling at my belt, and cocked the weapon. As I was loading a quarrel the figures came into clear view. Two ogres, presumably the source of the heavy footsteps. Three men in light armor, holding bows. A figure in full plate armor, somewhat smaller than me, and so probably an elf or a female human. And another fully armored figure but much bigger; not ogre size, but a foot or more taller than me, wielding a two-handed sword. As they came closer, I could see that the figure's helm was sculpted to resemble a fiendish, snarling, face.

"You're perceptive for an old man," the tall figure said. A deep, resonant, voice. A man. "You know why I'm here. Hand over your ward and you won't be hurt. If you resist it will be a waste of your life."

They were after me? Why? What made me important? I cast Protection From Evil on myself.

"You're a fool if you believe I would trust your benevolence," Gorion said. "Step aside, and you and your lackeys will be unhurt."

"I'm sorry that you feel that way, old man," the armored man said, and he advanced.

Gorion activated a series of spells, Mirror Images sprang up around him, and his skin became the grey of Stoneskin. "Run, child!" he snapped at me. "I can't fight them effectively and watch out for you at the same time."

I hesitated. How could I leave my mentor to fight alone and still hope to become a Silverhair Knight? Then an arrow struck me. I hadn't even seen it loosed. The tip of the arrow made it through my mail coat and pierced my skin; enough to draw blood, but not enough to be called a wound. I had a loaded crossbow in my hand and so I aimed it and pulled the trigger.

I missed.

"Run, you fool!" Gorion yelled, and this time I obeyed.

A glowing arrow, probably bearing an elemental damage charm, streaked past me as I fled into the darkness. I dodged behind bushes, until Gorion and the attackers were out of sight, and then doubled back and observed from a position of concealment. I watched as fighting commenced.

Arrows, some of them also visibly enchanted, hurtled at Gorion and the ogres charged. Gorion slew one of the ogres with a lightning bolt just as one of the decoy images was struck by an arrow and winked out. The armored man began a slow advance, undeterred by a Magic Missile that Gorion cast at him, raising his two-handed sword for a strike. The other ogre made it to close quarters, and destroyed another of the illusionary images, then Gorion hit it with some spell unknown to me that blasted it to pieces. I grinned, now confident that Gorion would prevail, but my grin was wiped away as a Flame Strike lashed down at my foster-father and enveloped him in fire. To my relief he emerged apparently unscathed and retaliated with a Fireball that slew the archers. The smaller armored figure, probably the caster of the Flame Strike, remained standing and showed no sign of being injured.

Suddenly all the Mirror Images disappeared at once, dispelled by a spell that I guessed had been cast by the smaller armored figure, just as the big man reached Gorion and struck at him with his greatsword. Gorion tried to dodge but the strike was too fast and accurate. He staggered as the sword caught him a solid blow, and I gasped in horror, but Gorion regained his balance. The Stoneskin must still have been in effect and protected him. He cast a spell and a jet of light, the same color as that of the spell that had destroyed the second ogre, struck his opponent but this time it achieved nothing. The armored man ignored the spell and his sword became a blur of motion as he rained blow after blow upon Gorion, sending him reeling back, and then the Stoneskin must have failed and the next strike seemed to cut Gorion almost in half.

I clenched my teeth to stop myself crying out as I saw Gorion fall, limply, to the ground. The big man delivered a downward blow to Gorion's prone body, no doubt to make certain he was dead, and then laughed. "Weak fool," he said, his tone scornful, and his remaining ally advanced to join him.

"The Drow has fled," the smaller one said, in the voice of a woman, with an accent unfamiliar to me. "Shall we pursue?"

"There is little point in chasing a Drow in the dark," the man answered. "She could evade us indefinitely. No, we might as well leave it to our agents. I'm sure they will dispose of her before too long. Let's go home." He bent down and picked up something, I didn't see what, and then the two walked away together.

They passed out of my sight, and I… did nothing. I wanted to attack, to avenge Gorion, but I didn't move. I don't know if it was through the sheer shock of seeing Gorion slain or if it was fear. Either way, I remained where I was, behind the bush, until it started to rain. That broke me out of my stupor and I was just about to move when I heard a voice.

"I don't think she's coming back. It's starting to rain. Shall we go?" It was the woman who had dispelled Gorion's mirror images.

"Yes. This is pointless," came the reply, in the deep voice of Gorion's killer. "She has gone and we might as well go too."

They hadn't departed but had been waiting for me, far enough away to be out of my sight, to attack if I returned to Gorion's body. Their declared intention to leave had been a ruse. A chill ran down my spine and I froze motionless. It must have been a full ten minutes before I dared to move. Cautiously I circled around, alert for any sign of their presence in case their second departure had been but another ruse, but saw nothing. Eventually I decided that they were indeed gone and I went to where Gorion lay.

His robes were gashed and soaked in blood. I could see a great wound in his body through the rents, and his head had been split open by the big man's second blow. Tears welled up in my eyes, from grief, and from shame at my failure to do anything to help him.

But could I have achieved anything, had I tried? Cold logic told me that I would have failed and died. The speed and strength shown by the huge man, in his attack on Gorion, had been terrifying. I knew I couldn't come close to matching it. Perhaps I could have held him off for a little while, and given Gorion the chance to cast another spell or two, but the man had shrugged off the one spell that had struck him. No doubt he had been protected by some enchanted item of spell warding, or magic resistance, and may well have remained immune to further spells. He had been prepared for combat against a wizard…

It struck me that he had known where to find us. Gorion had avoided the road but had aimed for an established campsite; a poor decision and one that had led us straight into danger. Danger that, for me, was not over. I had no idea why a stranger should want me dead but he had offered to spare Gorion if he handed me over; there could be no doubt that I was the intended victim. Whether it was mistaken identity, or something to do with my dead mother, or some other reason unknown might emerge later but, for now, all I knew was that I was in peril. But how could I escape it? The big man and his cleric companion were too formidable for me to overcome, and he had mentioned having 'agents' who would 'dispose of her before too long'. What could I do?

I needed allies, for a start, as alone I was far too vulnerable. The friends Gorion had mentioned, 'Khalid' and 'Jaheira', were perhaps my best hopes. Or… could I get Gorion returned to life? My heart leapt. Yes! If I could get him to a temple… no, back to Candlekeep! Tethtoril, or one of the Priests of Oghma, could Raise him and we'd be able to resume our journey as if nothing had happened – although, perhaps, taking rather more precautions against ambush this time. I felt much more confident now.

My next priority was to obtain better weapons. An enchanted sword was far beyond my resources; the armor and weapons I had purchased for the journey had taken all but four gold Lions of my earnings, and that would scarcely cover a good meal and a night's lodgings. There was, however, a ritual I had found in one of the books in the library; the Sword Dance, performed to ask for Eilistraee's blessing upon a blade, which if successful would bestow the equivalent of a minor enchantment upon the weapon. There was no point in waiting; the moon was visible, despite the rain, and so I would perform the ritual straight away.

I drew my sword and plunged it into the ground, deeply enough that it stood up straight, and then began to undress. I stripped naked, folded my clothes inside my hauberk to shield them from the rain, and then began to dance.

I chanted a prayer, in Ilythiirra, as I danced and struck each of my limbs, hard enough to draw blood, against the standing blade. It lit up briefly, glowing the silver of moonlight, and I felt the fresh cuts heal themselves. The ritual had worked. I voiced a prayer of thanks before I brought my dance to an end. For three months, according to what I had read, the blade would be able to strike foes immune to non-magical weapons. It would also be protected against corrosion; something that could be important, if the rumors I had heard about the Iron Plague were true.

My body was wet with rain. I found a piece of cloth on the body of one of the archers, and dried myself off as best I could, and then dressed again. I pulled my sword from the ground, wiped the tip clean of mud, and returned it to the scabbard on my back; this turned out to be much more awkward than drawing it had been, taking several attempts, but hopefully it would become easier with practice. I gathered up the rest of my belongings and then turned my attention back to Gorion's body.

It wasn't easy to pick him up. I was strong enough, certainly, but his limp form was awkward and I was hampered by the equipment I carried. The aptness of the term 'dead weight' became clear to me. A pouch fell from his belt, as I lifted him, and I lowered him again and retrieved it. A quick glance showed me that it contained some coins and a letter; probably, I guessed, the letter that Imoen had mentioned. The moonlight was too dim to read by, and my Infravision would be of no help, and the rain might well make the ink run. I left the letter in the pouch and tucked the whole thing into my own pouch. Then I bent and picked up Gorion again and, after struggling for a while, managed to get him into a position in which I could carry him. I set off, slowly due to the encumbrance, for Candlekeep.

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The Keeper of the Portal would not let me in. Even though I had lived in Candlekeep for ten years, and had been away for only some ten hours, I was now subject to the rule that no-one not on the staff could enter without donating a tome of great value to the Candlekeep libraries. The priests took Gorion's body from me, and took it into the temple to perform a Raise Dead spell, but I had to stay outside. At least the Keeper let me sleep in the outer stables.

I woke at dawn. The chanters were beginning the first of their daily recitations of the Prophecies of the Wise Alaundo when I emerged from the stables. The Keeper, and a senior priest named Astrus, came to meet me and the looks on their faces were grave.

"I have bad news, T'rissae," said Astrus. "Gorion could not be Raised."

My jaw dropped. "But… but how?" I knew that Raise Dead didn't always work, and was aware of some of the factors that could cause it to fail, but it hadn't occurred to me that they applied to Gorion.

"Perhaps it was his age, or the sheer amount of damage that his body had suffered," Astrus said, "or it could be that he had been Raised too many times in the past. He was an Adventurer for many years, as you know."

I sighed. "He didn't tell me much about his adventuring years, but I heard enough that I can accept that he may have been Raised more than once. But what am I going to do now?"

"You cannot stay here, I am afraid. Ulraunt's rules are strict. Unless you can contribute a book to our library, either one we do not already have or one of great value, you cannot be admitted. There are no exceptions for former residents."

"I know," I said, with a sigh. After a single night away, I was now a 'former resident'. It was ridiculously harsh but I knew that there was no point in arguing. Ulraunt would not relax his rules for me; he'd always seemed to dislike me, and often had blamed me for mischief that was really Imoen's doing, and no-one else could overrule him. At least I had been able to use the privy, and wash myself at the pump, before being kicked out. "Farewell, Astrus, Keeper." I gathered up my few belongings and set off once again.


	3. Chapter 2: Stay On These Roads

Author's note: there is a glossary at the bottom of those Drow (Ilythiirra) words and phrases used in the chapter, although most of them are explained in the text.

**Chapter Two: Stay on These Roads**

"Heya! Wait, Trissie! It's me, Imoen!"

I stopped and let her catch up. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm following you, silly," Imoen said. "I heard Gorion is dead and I'm so sorry. I kinda figured something bad might happen to you out here and I was right. I'm not gonna let you wander around out here all alone."

"It's going to be dangerous," I warned her. "Someone wants me dead. I don't know who, or why, but he's out there somewhere and there's bound to be another attempt."

"I don't care," Imoen said. "I won't let my best friend down. I'm going to stick with you and you can't stop me." She was carrying a shortbow and had a quiver of arrows behind her shoulder. "I'm all ready for adventuring. If you hadn't come back, I would have been setting off after you this morning anyway. I knew you'd be heading for the Friendly Arm Inn, from that letter of Gorion's, and I reckoned I could catch up with you there."

Her words reminded me of the letter in the pouch I'd retrieved from Gorion. I took it out and read it. The letter was signed with only the initial 'E' and warned Gorion that 'What we have long feared may soon come to pass'. It mentioned 'we', presumably the letter-writer and Gorion, having done 'all that we can for those in your care'; the 'those' puzzled me, for I was Gorion's only foster-child and the only other person at Candlekeep who could have been said to be in anyone's care was Imoen. Gorion had, however, never shown much interest in the human girl; she had always been in the care of Winthrop. I noted that oddity and read on.

It went on to advise Gorion to leave Candlekeep 'this very night, if possible', and referred to the possibility of seeking aid from Jaheira and Khalid at the Friendly Arm Inn.

"Is this the letter you read?" I asked, showing it to Imoen.

"Yep, that's the one," she confirmed. "Who are those people Jaheira and Khalid? Know anything about them?"

"Gorion mentioned them, as we were walking," I told her, "but nothing more than their names and that they were friends of his. Not even what they look like. We'll have to hope the innkeeper can point them out."

The pouch that had held the letter also contained some coin. I didn't count it right away but estimated that there must be fifty or sixty gold Lions. It would have been intended for our traveling expenses and so I didn't feel guilty about keeping it. There was enough there to cover board and lodgings for myself and Imoen for a tenday or more, perhaps up to a month if we chose the most basic accommodation, but not enough for any upgrades to my – our – weaponry and armor.

That reminded me of something else. The attackers slain by Gorion had been armed and armored and it hadn't occurred to me to investigate their bodies. They might well have something I could use, and almost certainly would have money, and… they could even have papers on them that might give away the identity of the big man who must have been their commander or employer.

All things that I should have thought of before. I would have to sharpen up my thinking if I was going to survive. At least I had Imoen beside me now; she'd always been quicker of thought than me, although my far greater ability to maintain concentration, and my better memory, usually meant that I ended up with a deeper understanding of any given subject. Between the two of us we should be able to think of most things. At least, I hoped so, but our inexperience would count against us. Hopefully Gorion's friends Jaheira and Khalid would be experienced adventurers and be able to compensate for our shortcomings.

"We'd better get going, then," I said. "First we'll go to the place where Gorion and I were attacked. Like a complete idiot, it never occurred to me to search the bodies of the enemies Gorion killed. After that, on to the Friendly Arm Inn. I'll tell you about what happened as we go."

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

The sun had set by the time we reached the Friendly Arm Inn. It was a big place, a self-contained fortress and settlement, and I had read that it had once been a temple of the evil god Bhaal before being stormed and cleansed. The keep had been converted into an inn, there was a small temple dedicated to the Gnomish god Garl Glittergold next to the keep, and a small farming community occupied the courtyard. High walls surrounded the complex and the gate was guarded.

I was a little nervous as we approached the guards. How would they react to me being a Drow? They might be suspicious and hostile, refuse me admission, or even attack me. In actuality they didn't seem to care at all, greeted me courteously, and gave me a short lecture on the rules of the settlement without any sign that my race mattered to them at all.

Our first stop was the temple. Imoen had a habit of nosing into places that she said looked likely to have been used as hiding places, perhaps for stolen goods, and this had paid off for us as she had found two rings that seemed to be enchanted. She had no idea what enchantment was on one of them but the other she was almost certain was a Ring of Protection. I warned her not to put it on until we had had it positively identified and could be sure that it wasn't cursed. I'd passed on to her the dagger Fuller had given me, which Imoen had been able to confirm was indeed enchanted, and assuming Eilistraee's blessing on my sword worked as I believed then both of us had weapons that could strike magical opponents such as Vampiric Wolves. There had been no sign of the enchanted arrows at the site of the attack; I'd seen the big man pick up something, as he left the clearing, and it must have been the quiver of arrows. No doubt he hadn't wanted me to be able to use them against him, which showed caution and intelligence; unfortunate, for if I had to have an enemy I would much rather that it be a stupid one.

One of the rings was indeed a Ring of Protection and Imoen was wearing it as we left the temple. The other proved to be a Ring of Wizardry, which would enhance a mage's ability to memorize spells, and although we had no immediate use for it ourselves it was valuable and could prove useful if we joined up with a mage in the future. We had found enough money on the bodies of the archers slain by Gorion to more than cover the cost of identifying the rings, and we would have enough for at least the basic necessities of life for the next month. The corpses had not carried anything containing any useful information about their boss, unfortunately, but I might find something out in the inn. My reading, and what little Gorion had related about his past adventures, told me that inns could be a useful source of gossip, and rumor, which would include valuable facts in amongst wild tales. I felt almost cheerful as we walked from the temple to the steps that led up to the inn.

"Hi, friends." A man, a stranger to me, stood on the steps ahead of us and greeted us with a smile. "I've not seen you here before today. What brings you to the Friendly Arm Inn?"

There was something about his smile that I didn't like. He was wearing black robes, and held a quarterstaff in one hand, and I guessed that he was a mage of some sort. Before I could formulate an evasive reply Imoen spoke up.

"We're hoping to meet some friends here," she said. "They're called Jaheira and Khalid. Do you know them?"

"Indeed I do, and I'll take you to them," the man said, his eyes on me, "but first I have to be sure you're the correct person. Is your name… Terissay?"

"Yep, she's T'rissae," Imoen confirmed, calling me by my correct name for once instead of the nickname she usually used.

"Excellent," said the man, and his fingers moved in the patterns of spell-casting as he spoke an arcane phrase. Instantly he was surrounded by illusionary, shifting, images of himself.

This had to be the prelude to an attack. I reached for my sword at once, but was hampered in drawing it by Imoen's proximity. By the time I got it free Imoen was stabbing with her dagger at the mage, but to no effect, and one of the guards was drawing close with his sword in his hand.

The mage cast another spell before I could strike at him. I felt nothing but Imoen screamed, dropped her dagger, and fled. The guard, too, cast down his weapon and ran away. I lashed out with my sword, hit one of the Mirror Images, and dispelled it. The mage retaliated with another spell and this time I recognized the activation phrase. Magic Missile. It struck me… and did nothing. The Drow magic resistance, that I'd read about but never had a chance to test before, must have saved me; probably it was why the first spell hadn't affected me either, although that might have been intended only to get rid of Imoen and the guard and leave me to fight the mage unaided.

There was no way to tell which of the images was the real mage… or was there? It occurred to me that, if I aimed at the right one, it was likely that he would instinctively try to dodge. Therefore, if the image didn't react, the odds were that it was a fake. I feinted at the nearest, saw no reaction, and quickly changed my target to another. My sword struck home solidly, either by sheer luck or because my deduction had been correct, and the mage staggered and stayed on his feet only by supporting himself with his staff. I hit him again, so quickly that there was no time for the images to change position and confuse me, and he dropped the staff and collapsed. The illusions disappeared as his body tumbled down the steps.

"Put down that sword and put up your hands!" a voice called, and I turned my head and saw one of the guards aiming a bow at me. The one who had come to help me was running around the courtyard in blind panic, as was Imoen. I didn't argue but laid down my sword on the steps. "What happened here, Drow?" the guard asked, keeping the bow aimed.

"That man started casting spells at us," I explained, trying to remain calm despite my inward horror. Not only had I just killed another man, the third in two days, but I'd killed him in pretty much the same way as the big armored man had killed Gorion. Somehow I managed to hold myself back from vomiting and to speak in a more or less normal tone. "I merely defended myself."

"Us?" the guard queried.

"Imoen and me," I said.

"That girl who is running around like a mad thing was with her when she came in, Drennon," another guard called, from behind the one with the bow. I recognized the new arrival as one of those who had been at the gate when we entered.

"Ah, that might corroborate this lass's story," said Drennon. He allowed the bowstring to slacken slightly. "We'll see what Gundon says when he stops panicking."

A couple of minutes later the spell on Imoen and the guard wore off and they came to join us. Both of them looked embarrassed. The guard, presumably Gundon, confirmed my account and Drennon put his arrow back in its quiver.

"Right, then, lass, you're free to go," he told me. "That bloke started it, like you said, and you had the right to defend yourself. We'll tidy up the body but you can help yourself to his belongings first. To the victor the spoils, and all that."

The energy I'd felt during the fight had worn off by now and I was having a hard time keeping my hands from shaking. "Thanks," I said, not feeling up to saying anything more. Searching the body was beyond me, for the moment, and it was Imoen who started going through his pouches and checking his fingers for rings.

"He doesn't have a lot," Imoen reported, sounding disappointed. "Maybe fifty or sixty gold, I'll count it once we're inside and can find a table. Three scrolls, and a letter." She unfolded the letter, read it, and gulped. "Oh, Trissie, this is bad." She held it out to me and I read it at once.

_BOUNTY NOTICE_

_Be it known to all those of evil intent, that a bounty has been placed upon the head of Terissay, a Drow female, the foster child of Gorion. Last seen in the area of Candlekeep, this person is to be killed in quick order. Those returning with proof of the deed shall receive no less than 200 coins of gold. As always, any that reveal these plans to the forces of law shall join the target in their fate._

"Oh, fuck!" I exclaimed.

"Language, Trissie," Imoen chided me, her usual smile returning. "That's not very Paladin."

"_Vith_, then," I said. "That explains those two at Candlekeep. And what the big man meant by 'his agents'. He must be the one who put this bounty on me."

"So, there could be more of them," Imoen said. "Lots more. I'm a little scared."

"I'm more than a little scared," I said. "Perhaps we shouldn't go into the inn. There might be more bounty hunters inside and, as a Drow, I'm rather recognizable whereas we would have no idea who might be going to attack us."

"Yeah, you're right," Imoen said, "but where else can we go? I'm getting a little tired and we need something to eat and a place to sleep."

"We'll just have to camp out in the wilds, for a while," I said. "Gorion said that Baldur's Gate might be a safe place, because there are so many people passing through there that I wouldn't be too obvious, but probably not too many of them are Drow. Let's head in that direction, anyway, and see how things go. Although maybe not go by the main road. If we head east to start with, before we turn north, hopefully we won't run into any more of these characters."

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

"Help me! If you don't help me, he'll kill me!"

A figure was running toward us through the trees. I drew my sword in case this was some ruse. As the figure drew closer, I saw white hair, and then that the face below the hair was black; a Drow woman, quite a bit smaller than me, clad in leather armor that seemed ill-fitting and holding a mace. I had no memories of my mother and so this woman was, effectively, only the second Drow I had ever met.

"We might help you," I said, as she came close, "but who is trying to kill you?"

The Drow's eyes widened. "_Dos ph'natha Ilythiiri!_"

"I am, but I was brought up by _rivvin_," I told her, "and my companion doesn't speak Ilythiirra, so speak Common."

"'_Zil dos daewl_," she said. "One of the Flaming Fist pursues me with intent to kill. He will not listen to what I say in my defense."

Even as she spoke a man in plate armor emerged from the trees. "Step aside, travelers," he called, brandishing his sword. "I serve the Flaming Fist and that woman you harbor is wanted for murder of the foulest sort. She is a Dark Elf and it should be obvious that she is evil."

"He lies," said the Drow. "I slew only a bandit who attacked me."

"We can't let you slay her without a trial, or even a hearing," I said.

"What! You, too, are a Dark Elf!" the Flaming Fist man exclaimed. "A conspiracy! I sentence all of you to death!" He raised his sword to strike and came at me.

I had read about the Flaming Fist. Originally a mercenary company, they now acted as the law enforcers throughout the lands ruled by Baldur's Gate. I had no wish to slay an officer of the law but I was even less enthusiastic about being slain by one. His blow was easy to parry but I held back from a riposte.

"Stand down!" I called, as he tried a thrust and I swept it aside. "I have lived among humans all my life. You have no reason to attack me."

"All Dark Elves are evil and must be destroyed!" the Fist yelled. He continued to attack me relentlessly and I was hard pressed to keep his blade from striking me. The Watchers who had trained me at Candlekeep had warned me that, in a fight, one who wished to avoid using lethal force was always at a disadvantage against an opponent whose aim was to kill. Reluctantly, I accepted that I was going to have to kill him.

I went over to the attack. His shield and armor gave him a defensive advantage, although my two-handed sword gave me the edge in offense, and he held me off at first. Imoen had moved off to the side and she loosed an arrow at him; it glanced off his cuirass without harming him, but he was distracted and I was able to slash him across the thigh below his armor. I appealed again for him to see sense, and quit this unjustified attack, but he would not listen.

And the Drow woman, who had slipped behind him whilst his attention was concentrated on me, struck him on the back of his head with her mace. He lurched forward right into a thrust that I was aiming at his throat. The blow to the head might have killed him anyway but my sword made certain. There was one great gush of blood, as I pulled the sword free, and then he toppled to the ground and lay still.

"_Falduna tlu ulu Shar!_" the woman exclaimed, as she lowered her mace. Well, that told me her affiliation and it was something of a relief. Shar was a goddess of Evil but at least she wasn't Lolth. "I thank you for your aid," she went on. "I am Viconia DeVir."

"I am T'rissae Gorion's Ward," I replied.

"T'rissae? An apt name," she remarked. My name meant 'Blade Dancer' and I took it that she had been impressed by my swordplay. "I would guess that you are a follower of the Dark Maiden – or perhaps not, if you were brought up by the _rivvin_."

"My foster-father told me that my mother was a priestess of Eilistraee," I said, "and I have followed her faith. I aim to be a Silverhair Knight one day and so have trained as a Paladin, as that is the closest _rivvin_ equivalent."

"Ah, that would be why you held back from slaying that _iblith_ for longer than was wise," Viconia said. "The surfacer concept of mercy is weak and foolish."

"Hey!" Imoen protested. "We could get into a lot of trouble for killing one of the Flaming Fist. Trissie didn't want to do it until she really had to. That's not foolish, it's sensible."

Viconia pursed her lips. "You have a point, _rivvil_. I saw that you loosed an arrow against that male, although too feebly to pierce his armor, and I thank you too for your well-intentioned but futile effort."

"Ooh, you're a snarky one," Imoen said, grinning. "I'm Imoen Winthrop and I've been Trissie's best friend for ages."

"I would guess, from your attire and equipment, that you are a Thief," Viconia said.

Imoen pouted. "I prefer 'Rogue'," she said. "I only steal things from bad people and rich people who won't miss them."

"Of course," said Viconia. "The poor have nothing worth taking."

"There is that, too," said Imoen. "Hey, we should loot the body. He looks to be about your size, Trissie. Maybe you could use his armor."

"I claim his shield," said Viconia. "I struggle to move freely in plate mail and it would be too big for me anyway. I took this poor excuse for armor from the brigand who attacked me. It will have to continue to serve."

"If I take the plate, we might be able to tighten my chainmail enough for you to be able to wear it, at least until you can find an armorer to alter it properly," I said. "It'll be long on you but I don't think it'll hamper your movement. How is it that you were traveling through this wood alone and unarmored?"

"I was forced to leave Menzoberranzan," Viconia related, "and fled to the surface. I fell in with a traveling Calishite merchant who had heard that the Drow are skilled in the arts of the bedchamber. I traveled with his caravan, paying my way in his bed, and it was he who told me about Shar and led me to adopt her as my goddess. Alas, one of our bouts of fucking caused him to have a heart attack and die. The others of the caravan threw me out and took the jewelry that he had given me. At least they left me my silken gown and undergarments. That was two days ago. I do not know where best to go. Perhaps I might travel with you, at least for a while?"

There was only one answer I could give. Eilistraee commanded that her followers give aid to all Drow returning to the surface world, whether than be by choice or by being exiled from the Underdark, and we were not to discriminate against any even if they were followers of an evil deity – not even if they worshipped Lolth. "Of course," I told her, "although I am not sure where we are going. I had thought to head for Baldur's Gate but if the Flaming Fist are likely to attack me on sight that may not be the wisest course."

"They did not attack me, whilst I was there," Viconia said, "but I was in the company of the merchant Bhalar yn Faruk and his retinue. Had I been alone it might have been a different matter."

"We'll go to the Friendly Arm Inn," I decided. "The guards there are fair and honest."

"Uh, Trissie, what about the assassins?" Imoen asked.

"Hopefully, if there were any more of them, they'll have moved on by the time we get there," I said. "They'd have expected me there two days ago and it'll take us more than a day to get back. And we can join up with Gorion's friends Jaheira and Khalid, if they're still there."

"Khalid? That is a Calishite name," Viconia commented.

"That could be useful to help spot him, or her," I said. "_Bel'la dos_."

"Hey, stick to Common," Imoen complained.

"It just means 'thank you'," I informed her.

"I guessed that," Imoen said. "Just kidding. Now, let's see if this nasty person had anything worthwhile on him other than the armor."

He proved to have little of value on him; only a few coins and a pack of rations. I considered taking his helmet, as it was a barbute pattern that would cover all of my face save for eyes and nose, thereby making it much less obvious that I was a Drow. It was dented at the back, where Viconia's mace had landed, but that could be beaten out. The problem was that I did not know if it was of a style used only by the Flaming Fist, and thus would connect me to this incident, and I could not be sure that my explanation of the event would be believed. I left it, therefore, and merely stripped the body of armor. He had not been a tall man and I thought that the armor would fit me well enough to be serviceable.

Then, just after I had taken off my hauberk to pass on to Viconia, we were interrupted. Imoen suddenly cried "What's that?" and snatched up her bow. Before she could get an arrow nocked a man's voice called out.

"Drop it, girlie!" he ordered. "We've got four bows trained on you three." He laughed. "You've made it easy for us, taking your armor off."

I cursed my stupidity, in making us so vulnerable, as Imoen reluctantly obeyed and let her bow fall. We should have found a safe place in which to change our armor. My crossbow was on the ground, out of reach, neither loaded nor cocked. I'd taken my sword out of its scabbard and stuck it point down in the ground, relatively close at hand, but archers would shoot me down before I could get to close quarters. There seemed to be nothing I could do.

"So, you're the bunch who killed Rhincor," he went on, presumably referring to the bandit Viconia had mentioned killing earlier. He stepped out into the open and I saw that he was a fairly tall human, clad in studded leather, holding a rapier. His four archers, spread out over a few yards, followed behind him. "You'll pay for that and I think we can make it… interesting. I've always wanted to fuck a Drow."

My blood ran cold. I was on the verge of leaping for my sword and trying to sell my life as dearly as possible when Viconia spoke.

"There is no point in resisting, _golhyrr_," she said. Golhyrr meant 'ruse' but she had said it as if it was my name, or an appellation like _abbil_ meaning 'friend'. She must have a plan. She had already taken off her leather armor and now she pulled off her tunic, revealing the silken undergarments she had mentioned. The archers all looked at her but their leader kept his eyes on me.

"You are right," I agreed, and I began to strip off my clothes, taking a step closer to my sword as I did so. Imoen looked horrified. "Accepting our fate will make it easier for us, _ulu_ _elgg_." The bandit leader was too occupied with looking at my body to query my Ilythiirra words – 'to kill'. The archers, by now, had all lowered their bows and taken the tension off the strings, and they had advanced to much closer quarters. I discarded my undergarments, much plainer than Viconia's, and stood naked; just as I was accustomed to practising with the sword, and I had slipped another step closer to where mine stood as I shed the last of my clothes. It was now almost within arm's reach.

"I won't do it!" Imoen protested. "I'll fight!"

The bandit leader's eyes went to her. "That might make it even more fun," he told her, grinning… and I acted.

A single stride took me to my sword and I seized the hilt, pulling it from the ground, and swung it in a vicious cut aimed at the neck of the nearest archer. The blow landed before he had time to react and he fell with his head almost severed from his body. The next closest started to bring up his bow but I performed a ballestra and thrust my sword-point into his chest. His leather armor might as well have been parchment for all the resistance it offered to my blade.

I looked around quickly as I pulled my sword free. Viconia had retrieved her mace and was battering one of the two remaining archers; she hadn't managed to kill him yet but it looked as if she had broken one of his arms as he tried to protect his head. That left one archer and the bandit leader. I assessed the archer as the bigger threat and rushed at him as he tried to aim his bow again. He snatched at the string, and loosed, but the arrow went wild and he raised the bow-stave to try to parry my sword-stroke. My blade cleaved through the bow and sliced down his face. He staggered back, clutching at the bleeding wound, and I finished him off with a thrust and spun to face the bandit leader. He was face-down on the grass, not moving, and Imoen's dagger was in the back of his neck up to the hilt. She stood, white-faced and shaking, staring at the body. I turned back to where Viconia fought the other archer and saw that she had felled him and was just delivering a final, finishing, blow to his head.

"Are you all right, Imoen?" I asked.

"I… I killed a man," Imoen stammered out. "I stabbed him from behind and killed him."

"It was a well-done deed," Viconia said, "and you should be proud, not shaking like a weakling. Surfacers can be so squeamish."

"I'm not a weakling!" Imoen snapped, standing up straight, no longer shaking.

"Good," said Viconia, "for weaklings soon perish. You performed your role as a Rogue well, backstabbing perhaps the most dangerous of our foes."

"Uh, thanks, I guess," Imoen said.

Viconia turned to me. "You were quick to recognize my ruse, and we fought well together. This association may well prove to be beneficial to us both."

"To the three of us, you mean," I said, as I picked up my undergarments and began to don them. "We'd better get dressed and put our armor on. I am accustomed to practicing whilst naked but in a real fight I'd prefer to have steel between my body and a foe's blade."

"And while you're getting dressed," Imoen said, "I'll do the other part of being a Rogue and loot the bodies."

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

The journey back to the Friendly Arm Inn was not without incident. Wild dogs, huge spiders, another bandit, and a Flind warrior armed with a two-handed sword. The Flind sliced my leg open, before I managed to put him down, and Viconia had to cast two Cure spells to heal me enough for me to be able to walk without pain. Then, as we approached the inn, we encountered a band of hobgoblins. Seven of them, and had they been all together they might have posed a severe threat to us, but we met them whilst they were dispersed and we were able to take them on one or two at a time. I suffered some bruising, and a minor cut, and Viconia had no spells of healing left, but my injuries were nothing serious and I knew she would be able to heal me after we had rested. The hobgoblins had several minor pieces of jewelry in their possession, and their swords would be saleable, and we'd gathered enough gold in our various encounters to more or less double our funds. Being an adventurer, it seemed, was profitable as well as dangerous.

We passed through the gates, and entered the courtyard of the inn complex, and were immediately accosted by a human woman. She bore no visible weapons, which wasn't a guarantee that she wasn't a bounty hunter, but she looked more like an honest craftswoman and I couldn't treat everyone as a potential enemy.

"Excuse me, my lady," she said. "The swords you carry look to be those of hobgoblins. Have you fought the band that lurks around the north road?"

"Yes, we fought them and slew them," I told her.

She smiled. "A good deed," she said. "The guards went out to seek them but the hobgoblins fled, rather than fight, and then came back later. Did you, perchance, find a Flamedance ring on their bodies?"

"I did," I confirmed. "I take it that it is yours?"

"It is," she said, as I dug the ring out of my pouch and handed it to her. "The hobgoblins nearly surrounded me as I was out picking mushrooms. I took off my ring and tossed it into long grass. Two of them turned aside, to search for it, and I was able to escape through the gap. I never thought that I would see it again." She smiled at me again. "I thank you. I am sorry that I have little that I could give you as a reward. All that I can do is spread the word of your bravery and kindness. Your name, my lady?"

"I am T'rissae, and my comrades are Imoen and Viconia," I told her. "We ask no reward, although we would not have said no to some mushrooms."

"I had to drop my basket of mushrooms when I fled," the woman said, "otherwise I would happily have shared them with you. Again, I thank you."

"Why did you part with the ring without reward?" Viconia asked, in Ilythiirra, as we walked on toward the keep. "It was the most valuable of those we found and you could have sold it for more than enough to pay for our night at the inn."

In truth the thought of keeping the ring hadn't even occurred to me. I tried to put it into terms that Viconia could understand. "The good opinion of others is worth more than gold," I explained. "People who like you, respect you, and trust you are far more likely to help you in time of need than are people who do not know you, dislike you, distrust you or even despise you."

"That… makes sense," Viconia conceded. "A short-term loss for long-term gain. Perhaps surface-dwellers are not as stupid as I imagined."

I'd count that as a win. Getting her to be truly selfless was probably an impossible aim, but if I could get her to act in a manner that would fit in with civilized society, even if it was for selfish motives, that would be in accordance with the mandates of my goddess.

We reached the stairs up to the keep, where the bounty hunter had attacked us on our last visit to the inn, but this time we went up without incident. Once through the doors we were in a large hall, with many tables, occupied by perhaps thirty or so customers and staff. Not many of them paid us any attention. One man, who seemed to be at least half-drunk, spoke to me as we passed him but he only wished to pass on the latest gossip about the iron crisis and to see if we had any up-to-date news. A formidable-looking half-orc warrior glared at us, and I was concerned for a moment, but he made no hostile moves and I realized that he was glaring at everyone, not just at us. We made our way to the bar where Bentley Mirrorshade, the owner of the Friendly Arm Inn, ran a shop and dealt with customers who wanted rooms.

It didn't take long to sell off our collection of weapons and jewelry, trade my mail hauberk for one that would fit Viconia properly, and to arrange meals and a room for the three of us. Some twenty minutes after our arrival we were sitting at a table, waiting for our meal to be brought to us, when we were approached by a man and a woman whose features indicated that they were Half-Elves.

"Good day, friend," the woman addressed me. She was shorter than my five feet seven by a couple of inches, lithe and obviously very fit, with a mane of red-brown hair almost hiding her pointed ears. She was clad in studded leathers and carried a staff; probably a Ranger or a Druid. "You are T'rissae, ward of Gorion, are you not? I recognize you from his letters, for he writes of you often. I am Jaheira, and this is my husband Khalid."

"Yes, I am T'rissae," I confirmed, "and this is Imoen, and Viconia."

"G-good to know you," Khalid stammered. He was about my height, fairly well-built, and his complexion was tan. No doubt his human half was, as Viconia had deduced from his name, Calishite. He wore splint mail and was armed with sword and shield. He smiled at all of us but Jaheira's brow furrowed, as she looked at Viconia, and her lips tightened.

"We are good friends of our adoptive father," Jaheira went on, her expression softening as she turned her gaze from Viconia back to me. "He is not with you? I doubt that he would permit his child to wander without his accompaniment, and you are days later than we expected. What has happened to him?"

"We were ambushed on the road, and he was slain," I told her.

"We share your loss," said Khalid.

"How did you escape?" Jaheira asked.

I invited them to sit and then related the whole tale of the ambush, my return to Candlekeep to try to have Gorion resurrected, my second departure and Imoen joining me, and the encounter with the assassin on the steps of the inn. It was when I told of our meeting with Viconia that the conversation took an unpleasant turn.

"You are a priestess of Shar?" Jaheira queried, almost in a snarl, glaring at Viconia. "I had thought you perhaps a follower of Eilistraee." She turned to me. "You cannot associate with a priestess of an Evil deity. That breaks all the rules of being a Paladin."

"My goddess commands that I give aid to any Drow who wishes to make a life upon the surface," I countered, "without regard to their alignment or religion. As long as Viconia acts in accordance with the laws, and does not attack innocents, I shall aid and protect her."

Jaheira snorted. "Gorion often said that he worried about your safety, even at the expense of his own, and he wished that Khalid and I would become your guardians if he should ever meet with an untimely end. You are older now, and the choice of your companions should be your own – but this is a mistake. Gorion would not approve of your choice."

"Jaheira, d-dear, that is harsh," Khalid said. "We could t-travel with you, until you get settled," he offered. "Help you find your lot in life."

"It would be a fitting last service to Gorion," Jaheira added. "We should go first to Nashkel. Khalid and I look into local concerns, and there are rumors of strange things happening at the mines there. No doubt you have heard of the iron shortage? You would do well to help us. It affects everyone, including you. We are to meet the mayor of the town, Berrun Ghastkill, as soon as possible. But you must leave the company of the Sharran priestess. You have brought her to this inn, a place of safety, and thus fulfilled the responsibility that you say your goddess commands. Let her stay here, and you and Imoen come with us to Nashkel."

"If Viconia wishes to leave my company, she may," I said, "but I will not cast her aside. She can accompany me for as long as she wants. If you cannot accept her… then I cannot accept you."

"It would seem that Gorion was a bit generous in his assessment of you," Jaheira said, and stood up. "So be it, then. Make your own way, and I wish you luck… and hope you do not regret your choice. Come, Khalid, let us leave them to their own devices."

"I thank you," Viconia said, after Jaheira and Khalid had departed. "I feared that you would, indeed, reject me as the _tu'rilthiiren_ wished. This place may be safe but I have not the funds to stay here for long. We fought well together and should be able to gain treasure from slain foes. Shall we go to this place Nashkel, as suggested by the _tu'rilthiir elg'caress_?"

"Perhaps," I said. "I have no clear plans. Let us see what turns up."

**Glossary of Drow Phrases**

• _Vith_ = Fuck!

• _Dos ph'natha Ilythiiri!_ = You are a Drow!

• _rivvin_ = human (plural)

• _Ilythiirra_ = the Drow language

• _'Zil dos daewl_ = As you wish

• _Falduna tlu ulu Shar!_ = Praise be to Shar!

• _iblith_ = excrement or offal

• _Bel'la dos_ = Thank you

• _rivvil_ = human (singular)

• _golhyrr_ = ruse, deception

• _abbil_ = trusted friend

• _ulu elgg_ = to kill

• _tu'rilthiiren_ = half-elves (plural)

• _tu'rilthiir_ = half-elf (singular)

• _elg'caress_ = bitch


	4. Chapter 3: Hunting High and Low

**Chapter Three: Hunting High and Low**

By the time we left the inn, fed and bathed and healed of our hurts, we had a couple of job offers. A dwarf wished us to recover a belt that had been stolen by an ogre, and a gnome wanted a house that she owned in Beregost cleared of an infestation of huge spiders; she promised a reward when we returned with proof of the deed in the shape of spider bodies and possessions from the house. The tasks seemed to be within our capabilities, especially as the gnome gave us six flasks of poison antidote, and thus a suitable start to our careers as adventurers. We set off southward heading for Beregost.

It was a fairly large and busy town, by the standards of the Sword Coast, and with my quiet upbringing in Candlekeep I found the bustle almost overwhelming. With an effort I kept my expression impassive, trying to appear blasé about my surroundings, for my reading and the talk of the Candlekeep guards had given me the impression that being too obviously unfamiliar with town life would make me a target for thieves. Viconia's original home in the Underdark was a city many times the size of Beregost and, other than complaining about 'the stench of the collected _rivvin_' she took Beregost in her stride. Imoen was cheerfully interested in everything around her but, of course she was a thief herself and alert to the possibilities. I was robbed, in fact, a purse of small coin that I kept handy was cut from my belt when we were in one of the inns. I suspected a halfling, who had spoken to me offering a reward if I could retrieve a pair of boots stolen from him by hobgoblin bandits, but I could prove nothing and decided that the small loss was not worth making a fuss about. Imoen, however, decided upon retaliation. She disappeared for a short while and then, after we had left the inn, she presented Viconia with an enchanted mace she had 'liberated' from the halfling's room.

"_Bel'la dos_," Viconia thanked her, her eyebrows climbing. "It seems you are not as useless as I first thought."

Imoen just laughed at this most back-handed of compliments. "Use it well, Vicky," she said. Viconia sighed, accepting that there was no point in expecting the irrepressible girl to refrain from abbreviating her name, and hooked the mace onto her belt.

And, a few minutes later, she was called upon to use it. We went into another inn and almost immediately were attacked by a mail-clad dwarf. He chose to strike as we were passing through a doorway, where my two-handed sword would be at a disadvantage against his one-handed axe and shield, but we managed to maneuver so that Viconia faced off against him, her weaponry as well-suited to close-quarter fighting as his, whilst I thrust over her head. He was strong, and struck Viconia's shield so hard that he broke her arm, but I drove my blade into his throat and he went down.

I expected that guards would be summoned to interrogate us, after the fight, but in fact no-one took much notice. It seemed that Beregost lacked strong law enforcement. I searched the dwarf's body, as Viconia was healing her injury, and found another notice of a bounty on my head. This time the reward offered had gone up to three hundred and fifty gold coins. There was no indication of who had placed the bounty, or where it could be claimed, but I was certain that the originator was the armored man who had slain Gorion. I had no idea why he wanted me dead or how I could find him and put an end to the threat. For the time being all we could do was to remain alert.

The next inn we visited was Feldepost's Inn, the biggest and reputedly the best in the town, and the one which housed a shop where we could buy and sell equipment. There we were accosted by a couple of farmers, who seemed to have a grudge against us for some reason, and my first thought was that it was because of Viconia and me being Drow. It turned out that their hostility was because we were adventurers, not our race, and the son of one of them had left home to become an adventurer and, after one successful expedition, had died on his second. The father's grief had turned to resentment of all adventurers, perhaps understandably, but I was able to calm him down. To my surprise Viconia spoke up.

"He was a fine and brave human, taken too soon," she said, "and you can be proud of him. Keep that pride in your heart and he will live on in your memories – and now, too, in ours. And you will see him again one day."

After the bereaved father and his friend had departed, their surly mood significantly lightened, I complimented Viconia on her contribution. "I am surprised that you bothered," I remarked, "considering how much you affect to despise humans."

"My goddess is the Lady of Loss," she replied. "It is my duty to comfort the bereaved, even as you have said it is your duty to protect Drow on the surface, regardless of other differences. I sense that my words pleased her and she has granted me more spells."

"Oh, yes, I have read that the Darkcloaks of Shar are effectively grief counsellors," I said. "It was well done, and I thank you."

"Hey, will you two stop talking in a language I don't speak?" Imoen complained. "It's kinda rude."

"Sorry," I said. "I honestly hadn't realized that we were speaking in Ilythiirra."

"It is surprising how naturally you speak our language, as you were brought up by _rivvin_," Viconia remarked. "Had you not told me otherwise I would have thought you a native of Menzoberranzan."

It was strange, now I thought about it. I searched my memory and realized that I could not recall ever learning the language – nor, indeed, could I remember much of my childhood at Candlekeep prior to Imoen arriving ten years ago. I began to suspect that I had been brought there only shortly before Imoen and that my memories had been altered. Had Gorion lied to me? Was I really from Menzoberranzan or some other Drow city? Was I the true heir of some major House, like a hidden princess in a story book, and could that be why my mysterious enemy had placed bounties on my head? The man who had slain Gorion was human, but could he perhaps be acting as the agent of a Drow faction? I needed to talk to Jaheira and Khalid and ask some very pointed questions.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

We cleared the gnome's house of spiders, as requested, and set off for the Friendly Arm Inn. On the way we sought out the ogre, slew it after a hard struggle in which I suffered broken ribs, and found two belts on the body. Both were magical, although we could not identify the enchantments, and we took both. The dwarf would know his own and the other, after identification, would be either useable or saleable. Viconia patched me up and we pressed on to the inn.

Jaheira and Khalid were not there. They had moved on, and none of whom we enquired could tell us where they had gone. My guess was that they were heading for Nashkel, as they had mentioned, and presumably they had passed us on the road. We delivered the spider bodies and the belt, received our rewards, sold off our acquisitions, slept in the inn for a night and then headed south once again.

I talked with Viconia as we traveled, to see if her knowledge of Drow society could shed any light on why someone might want me dead, but she was as baffled as was I. The Drow did not follow the principle of primogeniture, and there was no such thing as a 'rightful heir'; whichever daughter of a Matron Mother proved the strongest would take over the position and assume leadership of the House. They would not regard a young female who had spent the last ten years amongst the _rivvin_ as a threat, whatever her bloodline, and would not bother to go out of their way to have me killed. It was possible, Viconia conceded, that my late mother might have been slain by someone who feared I would seek revenge, but she doubted that any Drow would have the necessary contacts to locate me and arrange the bounties.

"If you were originally from Menzoberranzan, I would guess you to belong to House Faen Tlabbar," she told me. "The members of that House tend to be tall. Matron Mother Ghenni'tiroth Tlabbar is as tall as you, perhaps even taller, although slighter of build. One of her granddaughters was taller and stronger than you; stronger, I would say, than the biggest _rivvil_ or strongest _hargluk_ I have encountered in the surface world. That young female, Cierre Tlabbar, disgraced her House by failing the examinations at Arach-Tinilith, but then redeemed herself by transferring to Melee-Magthere and distinguishing herself there. You might well belong to that family; perhaps a sister of Cierre – or a daughter, even, for although she was young when I knew her that was long ago, and I knew her only by sight. My knowledge of how things stand in Menzoberranzan is far out of date, indeed, and my thought that you might have a connection to House Faen Tlabbar is no more than a wild guess."

"Out of date? How so?" I asked. "I thought you had but lately arrived on the surface."

"That is true, but only in a sense," Viconia explained. "It was many years ago that I was forced to flee my home. I made my way to the surface but, unaccustomed to the light of the sun, I did not see that I was approaching a basilisk until it was too late. I was struck by the gaze of the creature, my magic resistance failed me, and I was petrified. I cannot say for sure how long this state lasted, for I was only barely aware of the passage of time, but I know that I was found by _rivvin_ who thought me an actual statue of a_ darthiir_. They put me on display and, many years later, the Calishite merchant recognized my true status, purchased me, and freed me from the petrification. He expected me to repay him in his bed, of course, and I had no funds and thus few other options. It was tolerable enough, as he was not unskilled in the arts of the bedchamber. I traveled with him for some three years, in which I learnt of Shar, and also learnt to speak the Calishite Alzhedo language and became fluent in your Common Tongue, before his heart failed and the others drove me out to where I met you. In the end it has worked out for the best."

"You don't know how long you were… a statue? What year was it when you left Menzoberranzan?" I asked.

"It is hard for me to say, for we do not use the calendar of the surface lands," she said, "but Bhalar yn Faruk told me that those from whom he purchased me had found my statue self in the Year of the Pointed Bone."

"That would be 1298 by Dale Reckoning," I said, "and it is now 1368. So, allowing for the three years since you were freed, that was sixty-seven years as a statue plus however many years you were petrified before your body was discovered."

"I think that would not have been many years, perhaps only two or three or so, or else I could have suffered damage from the weather in the way that buildings on the surface do," said Viconia. "I was not really aware of the passage of time, as I said, which is just as well because otherwise being trapped in that form for so long might have driven me insane."

Imoen grabbed Viconia in a comforting hug after hearing that. It did not have the effect she anticipated; Viconia froze, as rigid as when she had been petrified, and looked distinctly unhappy.

Imoen released her. "Oops, sorry, Vicky," she said. "I'm guessing you don't like hugs, huh?"

"I do not," Viconia confirmed. "Amongst the Drow such a gesture would be accompanied by a knife in the back. Yet I sense that you meant it kindly and therefore, and for the sake of our _Jabbress_, I will refrain from smiting you. And call me not 'Vicky'. I am Viconia, daughter of Matron Mother Ginafae, of House DeVir."

"_Jabbress_? What's that?" Imoen asked.

"It means 'female leader'," I translated. So, Viconia was the daughter of a Matron Mother and thus in the situation that I had hypothesized might apply to me. She was unconcerned about the possibility of rival heirs hunting her down, although several decades as a statue would have thrown any such hunters off her trail, and it seemed logical that I also should dismiss that as a possibility. This left the question of who was behind the attempts on my life as unanswered as before. I decided that, as I had no clues on which to go, all I could do was go adventuring. Earn money with which to purchase superior equipment, build up experience at fighting, and stay alert.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

We continued our course toward Nashkel. Various commissions, and encounters with monsters, on the way earned us several hundred Lions, an enchanted quarterstaff, and a Ring of Protection. We traded the quarterstaff, with which none of us were particularly proficient, for an enchanted sling and some enchanted bullets. Viconia was very accurate with a sling, the only person I had ever met who could match me for dexterity, and we adopted a combat technique in which I took the lead, with my sword, whilst the other two stayed back and pelted my opponents with missiles. It carried us through several encounters successfully, although I took some hard knocks in the process, and before very long we reached the town of Nashkel.

Nashkel was much smaller than Beregost, with only a single inn, and one shop that sold a little of everything. Technically we had crossed a border, as Nashkel was owned by Amn, but the only visible sign of that was the different uniforms of the local guards. The mountain range of the Cloud Peaks separated it from the rest of Amn, making travel between Nashkel and the major Amnian cities slow, and the major trade route for the town was the road that led north to Beregost and Baldur's Gate. The mines of Nashkel provided most of the iron for Baldur's Gate and its satellites. A significant share of the currency circulating in the town was in the form of Baldur's Gate Lions rather than Amnian Danters, although as the currencies were worth the same this made little difference to us. And the bounty hunters pursuing me were here too.

No sooner had we entered the inn than we were attacked. A woman this time, a cleric in splint mail, who began by casting Hold Person upon us. It froze Imoen rigid but had no effect upon Viconia and I. We closed with her before she could cast a second spell and struck her down.

"Who sent you?" I demanded, as she lay bleeding, but she only spat at us and then died. She had another bounty notice in her pouch; the price on my head had now risen to six hundred and eighty gold pieces.

Once Imoen had recovered from the spell we stripped the body, gave the innkeeper a few coins to have the assassin given a pauper's burial, and headed for the town shop to sell off our acquisitions. The cleric's helm was enchanted but we would have to pay to have it Identified; we could really do with having a mage or bard in our party. We had met both in Beregost, a human male bard and a half-elf girl mage who had dyed her hair pink, and had helped both of them out of awkward situations. They would have been willing to join us but I didn't take up their offers. Garrick, the bard, seemed just too lacking in common sense, and made flirtatious advances toward all three of us in a manner that made me uncomfortable, and Neera the mage had turned out to be a Wild Mage. Her magic was unreliable, unpredictable even, and I found her personality annoying. What we needed was someone steady and reliable, preferably female, and not prejudiced against the Drow. The man we met on what passed for a main street in Nashkel didn't seem to fit our requirements at all.

"Stand, that my hamster can have a better look at you!" he greeted us. He was a huge man, at least eight or nine inches taller than me, barrel-chested and broad across the shoulders. So big, in fact, that the thought crossed my mind that he might be the one who killed Gorion without the distinctive armor and helm and, just in case, I surreptitiously cast Detect Evil but didn't detect anything untoward except, of course, from Viconia. On second thoughts this man wasn't quite as big as Gorion's slayer and his voice was quite different. His head was shaven and his face was decorated with a large ring-shaped purple mark that was either a tattoo or face paint. Battered leather armor, a two-handed sword, and an empty quiver without a bow completed the picture of an experienced warrior. I'd just never met one holding a hamster before.

"I agree, Boo, they look to be friendly," the big man went on, seemingly talking to the hamster. It squeaked at him and, I was fairly sure, at us. "Greetings," the man addressed us. "We are Minsc and Boo. We have traveled far to explore this land but now my charge Dynaheir has been taken from us. 'Twas gnolls, and once we have tracked them I will beat sense into their heads until they release her. Accompany us, and bards will sing of the deeds of Minsc and Boo… and friends."

"I think the human male is touched in the head," Viconia commented, in Ilythiirra.

"But I sense he is well-meaning," I replied.

"And probably well hung," Viconia responded.

I ignored her remark and spoke to the human, presumably Minsc. "We might be willing to help you," I said, "but we need to know more. Who is this Dynaheir and where must we go?"

"Dynaheir is my witch," Minsc said. "We are on our _dajemma_, traveling far from our home of Rashemen, and it is my duty to guard her. We were ambushed by gnolls, in the night, and I failed to protect her. I was struck upon the head and could not prevent them dragging her away. We must rescue her!"

"The classic tale of a damsel in distress," I said. "How could anyone decline?"

Minsc grinned broadly. "Take heart, fellow adventurers," he said, "for you have curried the favor of Boo, the only miniature giant space hamster in the realm! My friend and companion ever since my head wound, he will lead us to victory! Onward to the gnoll stronghold in the west! Tarry not, we must go soon."

I was a little taken aback, and was beginning to think that it might have been better to leave him behind and go on the rescue mission by ourselves, but Imoen was cooing over the hamster, and Minsc might be strange but was friendly and looked formidable. I wasn't going to go back on my word. "Indeed," I said, "but you look as if you could do with some new equipment first and we badly need rest. Accompany us to the shop, and then to the inn for the night, and we shall set off refreshed in the morning."

The helmet taken from the dead cleric turned out to be the Eyes of Truth, a Helm of Infravision, no use to me or Viconia but ideal for Minsc. We bought him a bow to replace the one he had lost in the gnoll ambush, restocked his quiver, and had the late cleric's splint mail hauberk altered to fit him. In the morning we set off, as well equipped as we could manage, to rescue the witch.

Minsc was an able warrior. He was an accomplished archer and his skill with a greatsword was as great as mine. He lacked my Elven agility and dexterity, of course, but when we tested our strength, in a contest of lifting rocks, he proved to be slightly stronger than me, his reach was much greater, and in sparring we were well matched. He could take hard knocks and keep fighting as well as I could, too, and with him at my side, and Imoen and Viconia backing us up, we carved our way through gnolls, ogres, xvarts and wolves until we reached the fortress where the gnolls made their lair. The stuff of high adventure, that would make a fine tale or ballad for any bard, but living it was not romantic at all. It would be better described as uncomfortable (especially when it rained), exhausting, dirty, and occasionally terrifying; yet I found that I enjoyed it.

A large part of that was due to my companions. Imoen remained unfailingly cheerful, whatever the conditions, and could always lift my spirits. Our new companion Minsc was good-hearted and kind, equally cheerful save when he worried about his missing charge Dynaheir, and his interactions with his hamster were always amusing. Perhaps he wasn't entirely sane but he was good company nonetheless. Viconia was sarcastic, sometimes spitefully so, and when she wasn't complaining about the rain she was complaining about the sunshine. And yet I found her company pleasurable nonetheless, for I could talk with her about things no-one else could share, and she always treated me with respect. She began to address me as _Jabbress_ on a regular basis and I was fairly sure that she meant it sincerely.

The gnoll fortress was screened by settlements of xvarts, blue-skinned relatives of goblins, and I decided that we needed to deal with them first lest they come at us from behind, as we were attacking the fortress, and trap us without a clear escape route. They were poorly equipped and physically weak, although savage, and only a serious threat if they attacked in large numbers. I did not want to slay them, if it could be avoided, and tried to negotiate with the first patrol we encountered. It was a futile gesture. They attacked at once and kept attacking, unrelenting, even though they stood little chance against the swords of myself and Minsc. I took no pleasure in their deaths but consoled myself with the knowledge that they would have attacked any civilized folk who crossed their path and by killing them I was making the Sword Coast a little safer.

Then on to the gnoll fortress itself. I doubt if we could have penetrated it successfully had the defenders been humans, elves, or dwarves; even orcs or hobgoblins would have mounted an organized defense that would have made an open assault impossible, and entering by stealth extremely difficult. Gnolls, however, were physically formidable but tactically inept. They attacked in ones and twos, seemingly not thinking to raise a general alarm, and we killed them in ones and twos. We were well inside the fortress before they attacked en masse and we were able to meet their charge in an advantageous position, with Minsc and I standing in a gap between a wall and a pit so that no more than two could face us at a time, with Imoen and Viconia pelting them with missiles from behind.

There was one moment of dire peril, when Minsc's sword shattered into pieces as his blade met the haft of a gnoll's halberd, but he was able to snatch up the weapon of a fallen foe before his opponent could take advantage. He was unaccustomed to the use of a halberd but it was similar enough to a two-handed sword that he was able to defend himself until I could slay the gnoll that faced him. The next few minutes were a close-run thing, with Minsc hampered by his unfamiliar weapon, but we prevailed. Eventually the gnolls stopped coming. We found a few more at the top of a tower, and slew them, but after that the fortress was clear and we could search for prisoners.

The first pit we searched contained only a rotting corpse. The second held a living woman, half-starved and clad in rags, and at first I thought this must be some other prisoner for she was… black. Or at least the dark brown shade that the pink-skinned rivvin of the Sword Coast call black, rather than true black like mine or Viconia's skin, but definitely not close to matching Minsc's only slightly swarthy complexion. Only when Minsc gave a delighted cry of "Dynaheir!", and seized her in an embrace, did I realize that we had achieved our aim.

Luckily Minsc's exuberant hug did not crush Dynaheir to death. We gave her water, and a little food because she was in such bad shape that a full meal might have killed her, and Viconia cast a Cure Light Wounds upon her. We helped her out of the pit and she spoke.

"I thank thee for saving me," she said, the formal second person singular sounding odd to my ears because it had gone out of general use in the Calant dialect of Thorasta, as spoken along the Sword Coast, centuries ago, although a few of the monks of Candlekeep still used it. "'Twas courageous of thee to follow the likes of Minsc into battle, if a touch foolish. I have naught to offer thee in return, save mine services in battle. Mayhap I could travel with thee awhile, and an opportunity may arise for repayment of mine debt. Minsc is, well, Minsc, but he hath a strong sword arm, whilst I am practiced in the arcane arts. Shall we join?"

"You are welcome in my company," I replied. "One cannot have too many friends."

"I have no doubt thou shalt make an interesting traveling companion," she said. "Hast thou a sling I might use? I have used all of mine spells, and where mine spell-book might be I know not."

"Is this it?" Imoen said, from where she was searching the bodies of fallen gnolls for any coins or gems they might have had. "I found it on the body of the big one with the sticky-up orange mane. I guess he was some kind of chieftain."

"Mine spell-book, indeed," Dynaheir exclaimed, relief evident in her voice. "I thank thee."

Viconia still had the non-magical sling she had had before we bought her the enchanted one and she passed it on to Dynaheir, together with some bullets, and we made our way out of the fortress with Minsc fussing over her and seemingly ready to carry her if she showed the least sign of stumbling. Dynaheir was in no shape to travel far and so we sought shelter in a cave, one we had cleared of xvarts earlier, to allow her to rest and recover. We gave her the Ring of Wizardry that Imoen had found near the Friendly Arm Inn, and some spell scrolls that we had acquired from fallen foes, and she studied the scrolls and her spell-book before she slept.

The rest of us ate a cold meal and then took it in turns to sleep, with one awake and on guard at all times, but the only thing that disturbed us was a carrion crawler that was quickly dispatched. In the morning, after seeing to our toilet needs, we left the cave, built a fire in the open, and prepared a meal.

"Dynaheir," I addressed her, once she had finished eating.

"Thy wish mine ear?" she responded, confusing me, as she used the possessive form of the second person singular and that made no sense. After a moment I realized that she meant 'Do you want to say something to me?'

"Uh, yes," I went on, once I had worked out her meaning. "Do you feel up to Identifying the magic items that we have found?"

"I do," she said, and we passed them to her one at a time.

A pair of gloves we had taken from an ogrillon proved to be Gauntlets of Dexterity, which went to Minsc, making him almost as dexterous as me and thus an even better shot with his bow. There was a halberd with a minor enchantment, which would serve Minsc until we could replace his sword, the enchantment compensating for his lack of skill with the weapon. An enchanted book that we had found in the xvart cave proved to be a Tome of Leadership and Influence. It bestowed upon me a permanent blessing that would make me more persuasive, a more charismatic leader, and better able to influence those with whom we interacted. It would help to counter the negative reactions that I received because of my race and, probably, help me to negotiate better prices when we bought and sold at the shops.

"Hey, Dynaheir," Imoen asked, once the Identifications were complete, "How come you're a different color to Minsc when you're from the same place?"

I had been wondering the same thing but had felt that asking straight out would be overly inquisitive and might come over as rude. Imoen had no such inhibitions.

"We of the Rashemi are of more than one heritage," Dynaheir explained. It seemed she had not been offended. "Minsc is of Raumviran and Mulan stock, I believe. Mine parents were Turami, who came to Rashemen from Turmish, but I was born in Rashemen."

"So, whatcha doing all the way over here on the Sword Coast?" Imoen asked, preempting a question I had been going to ask. "It's this pajama thing Minsc mentioned, right?"

"It is called _dajemma_," Dynaheir corrected her. "Young warriors of Rashemen art expected to travel to foreign lands before they canst prove themselves worthy of joining a Lodge. Amongst the _wychlaran_ this is not so expected a tradition, but not discouraged, and it was suggested to me that to accompany Minsc wouldst gain me honor."

Dynaheir asked a few questions of her own about our group and after we had answered her, and were all sufficiently fed and rested, we set off back toward Nashkel. We had a few encounters on the way, of course. More gnolls, and bears, and a dryad whose tree was being threatened by uncouth treasure-hunters. I sought to dissuade them, peacefully, from felling the tree but they would not listen to reason and attacked us. Their bodies yielded an enchanted club and a girdle with a minor enchantment of protection from blunt weapons. The girdle went to Dynaheir, who as a mage could wear no armor, and the club was taken for future sale. The dryad rewarded us with useful potions, and after departing from her we found a cave in which lurked a dire wolf, which we slew. There we found another enchanted halberd and a chest of gold containing over two hundred Lions. We rested there and then pressed on to Nashkel.

As we passed through the fields on the outskirts of Nashkel we were accosted by the village idiot, who prattled inanely and incessantly until Viconia's suggestion that we should simply kill him began to seem tempting, but this turned out to be a stroke of great good fortune. As we detoured through the fields, in a futile attempt to escape him, we stumbled upon a great treasure; a buried suit of ankheg plate armor, as strong as full plate but very much lighter. The idiot lost interest in us as we were digging up the armor and so this was a win in more ways than one. Then, as we crossed the bridge over the river that ran through the town, we were accosted by a young wizard in the dark red robes of a Red Wizard of Thay.

"Greetings," he began. "I am Edwin, and I wish to…" His eyebrows rose, as his gaze fell on Dynaheir, and his voice faltered. "Oh, my," he exclaimed. "She has allies already!" He seemed to gather himself, and he went on. "It would seem that the quarry I would have hired you to find is already within your midst. Dynaheir is not to be trusted, and I urge you to cast her from your party."

I cast, not Dynaheir from our party, but my spell of Detect Evil. Dynaheir came up clear. Edwin… did not. He lit up to my eyes with a red glow, not overwhelmingly bright but noticeably brighter than that from Viconia. I was not going to trust this wizard's words.

"If you will not," he continued, "at least allow me to join you as well. I am a wizard of some renown, and as such I will not fall prey to the deceitful guile of one such as she."

"Why should I fear Dynaheir?" I asked. "State your case that I might understand." Not that I thought that he might have a genuine case, but it would be useful to know his motives.

"My grievance with her is beyond you," he said. "Suffice it to say that she must be watched by someone who understands her ilk."

"You will not insult my witch!" Minsc growled. He seized the wizard by his collar and his waist-belt, lifted him from his feet, and threw him off the bridge into the river.

The wizard hit the water with a splash, thrashed for a moment, and then rose to his feet, soaked, and stood in the stream glaring at us. "Bah!" he said, spitting out water. "These barbarians have no appreciation of the wisdom of Edwin Odesseiron. You shall be the harbinger of your own destruction, Drow. Fools, they know not the danger. I will leave them to nurture the viper in their midst." He splashed his way through the river, emerging on the far side to the town, and strode off with water dripping from his saturated robes.

"I know that wizard not," Dynaheir said, "and I canst not think why he wouldst seek to watch me, and warn thou against me, save for the ancient enmity between Thay and Rashemen."

"If he bothers us again, I might press him for further answers," I said, "but I'm not going to chase after him. Let us get to the store, and to the inn."

The storekeeper gave us better prices for our goods and our purchases than on our last visit, perhaps due to the benefits of the tome I had read, and we sold the enchanted halberds and purchased a replacement greatsword for Minsc. The ankheg armor became a good fit for Viconia, whose slight frame could not have coped with the weight of steel plate, once it had been given some minor alterations. Now she was well protected for those occasions when she was forced into close combat.

We went next to the inn and, as our meal was being prepared, I enquired about Jaheira and Khalid. The innkeeper told me that they had passed through twice. Once heading for the mine, accompanied by two Elven warriors, and once returning from the mine in bad shape and without their companions. They had headed off north again, perhaps intending to recruit replacements for their – presumably – fallen allies, and we had missed them. Unfortunate, but I didn't want to go chasing off after them without some concrete indication of their destination. I decided to press on with investigating the mine and leave the question of my missing memories for the future.

I awoke the next morning, after a night filled with restless dreams, and found that I possessed a new ability. I could cast a Cure Light Wounds spell, with no need for an incantation, in the same fashion as a regular paladin's Lay On Hands ability. This was a surprise to me, for I did not think that I had advanced sufficiently as a paladin to be granted such powers, but I assumed that this was part of the difference between a Silverhair Knight and the human version of a paladin. I thanked Eilistraee for the gift and joined the others for breakfast.

Rested, refreshed, and equipped we set off for the iron mine to look into the reported strange occurrences, and slain miners, that were interfering with the mine's operations and threatening the flow of iron ore to the region's smithies. Of course, our trip there was not as straightforward as I expected.

We were waylaid by bandits, who outnumbered us, and they had chosen a very advantageous position for their ambush. It might have gone badly for us but for an unexpected ally, the big half-orc I had noticed at the Friendly Arm Inn, who came to our aid. He seemed to have his own personal grudge against the two leaders of this group of highwaymen and he attacked them from the rear, we charged from the front, and the bandits all fell with no losses on our side.

"You are T'rissae, are you not?" the half-orc said, when the last of the brigands lay dead. "I had an old score to settle. I have been hunting those two for almost a year now, after my former comrades betrayed me and left me to rot in a Luskan prison, but two others yet remain. I have heard of your… prowess. Traveling with you might help my vendetta, and my powers could certainly help you."

"I'm getting a bad feeling about this guy, Trissie," Imoen muttered.

I was getting a bad feeling too. I cast Detect Evil and the half-orc lit up to my vision with a bright red glare that made the dim glow from Viconia seem almost non-existent by comparison. I knew that some paladins would have attacked him for that reason alone but I believed that to attack without actual proof of wrongdoing was evil in itself. Slaying someone merely for being a follower of an evil deity, without them committing evil deeds, was wrong and this man had aided us, albeit for reasons of his own, rather than opposing us. I would not attack but neither would I ally myself with someone of such dubious intent.

"I think it is better that we go our separate ways," I said, "although I thank you for your aid against these brigands."

"Hmm. You are making a mistake," he said. "If you change your mind, I will be at the Friendly Arm Inn." He strode off, northward, and soon was out of sight.

The bandits had been well-equipped. I was able to restock my quiver of crossbow bolts from their bodies and their leaders had carried an enchanted shield, claimed at once by Viconia, and an enchanted sword of a pattern unfamiliar to me; something between a conventional short-sword and a scimitar. Imoen tried it out but decided that she did not like its balance. It was light and easy to carry, its enchantment meant that it would no doubt sell for a good price and, in the meantime, it could serve as a back-up weapon for Minsc in case his new sword fell victim to the same weakness as had afflicted the previous one.

Imoen had a gift for finding valuable things in unexpected places, as she had proved when she found her Ring of Protection and the Ring of Wizardry that Dynaheir wore, and she demonstrated her gift yet again as we drew near to the mine. She insisted in investigating a hole in a hollow tree stump and found a magic wand therein. Dynaheir Identified it as a Wand of Frost, capable of sending a ray of deathly cold at a foe, and it would make a useful addition to our armament.

At the mine we spoke to the supervisor and were granted permission to enter the mine workings and investigate. The tunnels were dimly lit with lanterns and torches, enough to spoil my infravision but not enough to allow plain sight, and the air was hot and dank. The miners were nervous and talked of disappearing colleagues and demons lurking in the shadows. We saw nothing out of the ordinary in the upper reaches of the mine but this changed when we descended past the areas where miners worked on a regular basis.

The less frequented regions turned out to be infested with kobolds. The little reptilian humanoids staged ambushes around almost every corner, loosing arrows at us, and charging with short-swords when we closed on them. We had the advantage, however, because of our superior weaponry and armor. Minsc's bow, my crossbow, and Viconia's sling greatly outranged their short bows and hit harder. They wore little or no armor and if we hit them in the body it was almost always an instant kill; their arrows could not penetrate our armor and the only injuries we took were from fire arrows, which gave us a few nasty burns, but nothing life-threatening. At close quarters Minsc and I outclassed them by so much that we were never in serious danger.

The kobolds had laid quite a number of traps in the less-used mine passages, some of them quite lethal and others potentially paralyzing, but Imoen was able to disarm most of them before we could trigger them. The only one she missed shot several poisoned darts at me and one of them found a gap in my armor. Dynaheir neutralized the venom with a spell, an unusual one that required no incantation, before it could do more than make me feel nauseous.

Viconia had been on the verge of casting her own spell on me when Dynaheir preempted her, and she sulked for a while, perhaps because she felt that Dynaheir had usurped her position as our healer. Her bad mood did not last for long because she had taken a liking to the Rashemi woman, which I suspected was at least partly due to the color of Dynaheir's skin. I had not become so fond of the Rashemi witch, who seemed somewhat arrogant and mangled the Common Tongue in an ungrammatical fashion which grated on me, but her timely cure did much to raise my opinion.

We caught some of the kobolds in the act of pouring an unknown liquid onto iron ore, already mined, that had been loaded into wagons for transportation to the surface. Imoen, who tended to think faster than me, at once came to the conclusion that this liquid was responsible for the corrosion that was said to be affecting iron and steel weapons and tools throughout the region. I wouldn't have thought that any such corrosive agent could survive the heat of smelting and forging, but my knowledge of metallurgy was extremely limited and I couldn't think of any other reason for their actions. I took a couple of vials of the liquid and a chunk of the contaminated ore, to show to the mine supervisor, and we continued on deeper into the mine.

The deepest level had not yet been mined for iron. Around the perimeter we found more kobolds, a pair of ghouls, and two carnivorous oozes. We destroyed them all, making sure that our line of retreat was secure, and went through a tunnel into an inner cavern complex. There we met the person who had been controlling the kobolds.

His name was Mulahey, a half-orc cleric, and he seemed at first to believe that we were agents of his superiors sent to check up on him. Before he realized his mistake, he had revealed that he worked for someone named Tazok. I did not respond correctly and he called for his kobold guards, summoned skeletons, and attacked.

His Hold Person spell did not work on me, Viconia drove back the skeletons, and the kobolds fell quickly to Minsc's sword, Imoen's arrows, and Dynaheir's spells. Mulahey feigned surrender but, as soon as I lowered my sword, he cast a healing spell on himself and returned to the attack. That just meant that I cut his legs out from under him rather than splitting his skull. He died praying for Cyric to save him.

He had several enchanted items on him, and in a chest in his chamber, plus a couple of incriminating letters. We took everything, of course, and moved on to search the rest of the complex. There was no more loot but there were two prisoners in chains.

Both of the prisoners were Elves and both had been badly treated. We freed them, of course, and healed their injuries and gave them food and water. Despite this one of them, a Wood Elf ranger, remained suspicious of us and spoke only curtly. We found out that his name was Kivan but that was about all. The other, a Moon Elf mage named Xan, was more loquacious but so miserable that I soon wished that he would shut up. He revealed that they had entered the mines with Jaheira and Khalid, and had dealt with the kobolds with little trouble at first, but had stumbled into a trap that held them unable to move. Jaheira and Khalid, both injured by a hail of arrows, had been forced to retreat and had shouted promises to return with reinforcements. My guess was that they were seeking a thief who could deal with the traps.

I invited the two Elves to return to Nashkel with us but they refused to travel with Drow, even temporarily, which did not improve my opinion of them.

"If you are returning to Jaheira and Khalid, tell them that I want to talk to them," I told them. "They should be able to find us at Feldepost's Inn in Beregost."

"We will… _Dhaerow_," Kivan the ranger said, curtly. We returned to them the items of equipment that had been taken from them when they were captured, which was all fairly basic save for a Moonblade belonging to Xan, and the two racist bigots departed.

I went through the documents we had found in Mulahey's possession and discovered that he reported to a mage named Tranzig, who could be found in Feldepost's Inn in Beregost. That, then, would be our next port of call after Nashkel.

**Glossary of Drow Phrases**

• _Bel'la dos_ = Thank you

• _hargluk_ = dwarf

• _rivvin_ = human (plural)

• _darthiir_ = surface elf

• _Jabbress_ = Female leader

• _Dhaerow_ = the Surface Elf word for Drow


	5. Chapter 4: Memorial Beach

**Chapter Four: Memorial Beach**

Berrun Ghastkill, the mayor of Nashkel, greeted us as heroes and rewarded us with gold. We showed him the vials of liquid the kobolds had been pouring on the iron ore and he suggested we show them to the master smith, Taerom Fuiruim, in Beregost. After departing from him we headed up the main street, toward the store and the inn, and were approached by a figure in black striding toward us.

"I am Death, come for thee," he declaimed. "Surrender, and thy passage shall be… quicker."

His announcement seemed so over-dramatic that I thought for a moment that he was a bard, reciting lines from a play as a street entertainment, rather than a serious bounty-hunter or assassin.

"Struggle if you must, dead one," he went on. "Why Nimbul has been hired to deal with the likes of you I'll never know."

Well, that clarified his intentions. I drew my sword, and the rest of us readied their weapons, but Nimbul caught us off-balance by casting a spell of Horror on us rather than launching a physical attack. Viconia and I resisted the magic but Imoen, Minsc, and Dynaheir all turned and fled. Viconia cast Remove Fear, bringing their flight to a halt, and I went for the assassin with my sword. He threw a hand-axe at me and drew a short-sword. He was skilled enough to hold me off, at first, but once the others returned to the fight he did not last long.

The short-sword was enchanted and we found a Ring of Infravision, which would be very useful for Imoen, on his body. He had a variation on the usual bounty notice in his pouch. This time it was not an open bounty but a specific contract. Nimbul, it seemed, had been a professional assassin rather than an opportunist like those who had attacked me earlier. There was still no clue as to the identity of his employer or the reasons behind someone wanting my death.

Viconia almost got into a fight with a monk who was demonstrating martial arts in the street. He was a follower of Selûne, the human goddess of the moon, a friend to my goddess Eilistraee but the arch-enemy of Shar. To the best of my knowledge Eilistraee tried to keep out of their conflict, because Shar was also a bitter enemy of Lolth, and I was committed to protecting Viconia in any event. I managed to calm them down, using every bit of diplomacy I could summon up and possibly aided by the benefits from the Tome of Leadership and Influence, and they agreed to ignore each other's affiliation and refrain from fighting. The monk, a Calishite named Rasaad yn Bashir, even offered to join us when he found that we were opposed to bandits and to those behind the attacks on the mine. I didn't think that was a good idea, however, as I could not be sure how long the truce between him and Viconia would last, and I had enough to deal with without having to constantly keep two members of the party from killing each other.

We spent the night in the inn and I was plagued with bad dreams. I dreamt of blood, and daggers of bone, and of Mulahey's death. Ominous, and disturbing, but on awakening I found I had been granted the ability to cast a second incantation-free Cure Light Wounds spell. I accepted it as a gift from Eilistraee and put the dream behind me.

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On to Beregost, then, where we were greeted by a red-robed wizard. My first thought was that this was another Red Wizard of Thay, but his robes were a much brighter shade of red, and he had a long white beard and white hair showing from beneath his pointed hat. Red Wizards, I had read, shaved their heads and either shaved their beards or kept them trimmed extremely short. This wizard, in fact, fitted descriptions I had seen of the famous and powerful Elminster Aumar. I guessed that it really was Elminster; the famous mage had a lot of exceedingly dangerous enemies, from what I had read, and impersonating him would be perilous as a foe might well kill the impostor by mistake.

"Ho there, wanderer," he addressed me. "Stay thy course a moment, to indulge an old man." He used the second person singular correctly, unlike Dynaheir, who tended to use 'thee', 'thou', 'thy', and 'thine' almost at random and usually in the wrong context. "Proper introductions are in order, as we will no doubt meet again. My name is Elminster, and I have heard tales of thine exploits. It would seem that thou art destined to have quite the impact on the Sword Coast. A great burden for one so young."

"I was not aware that my actions were common knowledge," I replied. "Mainly I've been concentrating on staying alive, and if I've been able to do some good along the way that is a bonus."

"Perhaps not common knowledge," Elminster said, "but everything is plain for those who know where to look. As it is, I am aware of thine efforts and accomplishments. Thou art quite adept, as Gorion predicted. All that remained was to determine motive."

"Gorion? You knew him? He never mentioned you."

"I understand that he told thee little of his life before he adopted thee," he said. "He would have wished for thee to forge thine own path."

I remembered that the letter I had found on Gorion's body, advising him to leave Candlekeep without delay, had been signed 'E' and had used the second person singular in its text. Almost certainly it had been from Elminster.

"I'd be better equipped to forge my path if I knew why someone slew Gorion, sought to kill me, and is placing bounties on my head," I said. "I believe you could answer those questions."

"It is not my place to do so, young lady," Elminster said. "Thou wilt discover the answers in due time. One of the most valuable lessons life has taught me is when not to go sticking my nose into other people's affairs. Such is the case now, as well."

I wasn't happy about this but wasn't going to press the point with an Archmage.

"I do have one piece of information to impart," Elminster continued, "though it is likely old news to thee by now. The bandits that thou dost seek make a habit of traveling in the north-east. With this, I take my leave." He turned and walked away.

"His staff really did have a knob on the end," Imoen remarked. "So that was Elminster. Wow. We've met the greatest wizard in the world."

"Huh. I am sure that Gromph Baenre is greater still," Viconia said, "and I have dined with him more than once."

"Oh? Tell me about him," Imoen said, and they began a discussion about wizards, human and Drow, with some input from Dynaheir. I listened, for Viconia's information about the wizards of Menzoberranzan was of interest to me, but I was more occupied in thinking about what Elminster had said.

We called on Beregost's renowned smith, Taerom 'Thunderhammer' Fuiruim, and gave him the phials of liquid retrieved from the kobolds, which were presumably some kind of iron poison, and a sample of the ore they had contaminated with it. He was intrigued and promised to consult with a wizard friend, probably not Elminster, to see if they could come up with a cure for the corrosion problem. Another good deed done.

A message delivered by a child sent us to the Jovial Juggler in, where the local Flaming Fist garrison commander, Officer Vai, told us that she would pay a bounty of fifty gold Lions for every bandit scalp we could bring to her. I was somewhat disgusted, although I sought to hide this, and also concerned that innocent people could be killed and scalped for fraudulent bounties. Vai assured me, however, that she was not offering a general bounty but this offer was reserved strictly for my party, as what she had heard of our deeds had convinced her that she could trust us not to abuse the system. It was a fair point, I supposed, and Viconia was quite enthusiastic about the prospect of being paid to kill bandits we had every intention of killing in any case. I agreed, somewhat reluctantly, resolving to let Viconia deal with the repulsive business of actually scalping our foes.

We found the mage Tranzig upstairs in Feldepost's Inn, as we had gathered from the letters retrieved from Mulahey, and tried to question him about the mines and the bandits. He refused to talk, and attacked, and though I would have liked to take him alive Minsc struck him dead. A letter in his possession, signed by Tazok, talked of the bandits operating in Larswood, and in Peldvale where we had met Viconia, and mentioned a camp but did not give a location.

I decided against pursuing the bandits immediately. We needed rest after our labors, I felt, also I did not believe we were as yet sufficiently well-armed and experienced to take on large bands of brigands. A couple of days in Beregost, enjoying warm beds, hot baths, and professionally-cooked food would do us good. After that we could seek out less formidable foes to give us a chance to gain combat experience and earn money for better weaponry and armor. The others agreed, enthusiastically, save for Minsc who wanted to be on the road straight away. He bowed to Dynaheir's opinion, though, and so we took a short respite from adventuring.

Viconia took advantage of the break to seek out the bard we had met before and entice, or possibly simply command, him into her bed. She urged me to do likewise, saying that a good fucking would do me good, but I was uncomfortable at such an idea. As I had been brought up in the ascetic atmosphere of Candlekeep, surrounded by monks and sages, I had no experience of romantic relationships and my only knowledge of sexual matters came from my reading – not all of the books in Candlekeep were pure and scholarly. Some of them had made sexual intercourse sound very pleasurable, and my reading about the church of Eilistraee had given me the impression that sex outside of a marital relationship was not uncommon amongst her worshippers, but I found the thought of sex without even friendship, purely for gratification, distinctly unappealing. Perhaps if Minsc had not been… as he was… I might have been tempted, for I had grown very fond of him and his muscular body was attractive to me, but it would have seemed like taking advantage of a child and could have ruined our friendship. I contented myself with playing chess with Dynaheir, and Old Wizard and Elemental Empires with Imoen, and practicing with my sword and my crossbow.

After two days in the inn I became restless and eager to return to the road. I had hoped Jaheira and Khalid might turn up, so that I could question them about my past, but there had been no sign of them and I did not want to stay in one place much longer in case more bounty hunters found me. The rest of the group were eager to move on, too; Viconia had exhausted the bard, who had fled Beregost and headed north, and the others had had their fill of comfort and relaxation. We purchased an enchanted composite bow for Minsc, which made him an even better archer, and headed south-west in search of a murderous cleric for whom there was a reward of five thousand Lions.

Defeating the insane cleric Bassilus turned out to be surprisingly easy. He was surrounded by summoned skeletons but they collapsed into mere piles of bones when I distracted him with conversation. We gathered a fine haul of saleable crossbows and greatswords from the fallen skeletons, in fact too many to carry them all, and the reward for killing Bassilus allowed me to buy an enchanted crossbow, known as the Army Scythe, that could be reloaded as fast as the average archer could loose from a longbow. Even with the enchanted crossbow I was little better than passable, however, as I did not have the same affinity for the weapon as I did for the sword.

In the same area as Bassilus we encountered a talking chicken, actually a mage's apprentice who had transformed himself into chicken form by accident and was unable to turn back, and returning him to his master – who was not at all amused by his apprentice's idiocy – got the chicken restored to human form and gave us a source from which we could purchase magical items and spells in the future. Our first purchase was a magical potion case, with a capacity of a hundred potion vials, that weighed only two pounds when full and took up no more space than a quiver for crossbow bolts. A very useful item indeed.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

We spent the next month roaming the wilds, taking on various jobs, hunting monsters and recovering lost items. We slew ogres, and many hobgoblins, and destroyed numerous walking skeletons and wandering ghouls. A halfling village was being plagued by raids from kobolds and we investigated, discovered that they were being directed by an ogre mage and a halfling traitor, and slew the villains and removed the threat to the village. Near Firewine Bridge a wandering warrior, claiming to be the greatest swordsman in the Sword Coast, challenged me to a duel; I would have spared his life but he would not quit until I was forced to slay him. From his body I took a pair of enchanted gauntlets that bestowed upon the wearer greater skill with all weapons; no doubt they had been the basis of his belief that his skill was supreme, but they had not been sufficient to outmatch my greater speed and strength. I was not going to share his delusion, and was well aware that there would be those who outclassed me, but they did improve my abilities enough that now I could beat Minsc in our sparring matches nine times out of ten.

Twice we encountered bounty hunters on my trail, in groups of four rather than lone assassins, but defeated them without loss and acquired valuable weapons and armor from their corpses. I sold the plate mail that I had taken from the Flaming Fist bigot and replaced it with twice-enchanted chainmail that had belonged to a bounty hunter; it gave no greater protection but was much lighter and allowed me to move more freely. Imoen now wore enchanted leather armor and carried an enchanted shortbow and short-sword. Viconia added a twice-enchanted war-hammer to her mace and sling. Dynaheir gained an enchanted sling, although she was still a terrible shot even with the magical enhancement, but the Wand of Frost, a Wand of Fire that we acquired in the ruins of Ulcaster School, and a Wand of Monster Summoning found in a ghoul-infested crypt, made her able to more than pull her weight in the party. We bought a Robe of the Good Archmagi for her, from Thalantyr the mage whose apprentice had been a chicken, and the enchantments on the robe protected her as well as if she wore chainmail armor. Minsc was truly deadly with his new bow and, after a battle with half-ogre brigands, he obtained an enchanted greatsword that made him equally deadly at close quarters. I began to think that we might be ready to take on the bandit gangs.

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In an area known as Fisherman's Lake, to the north-west of Nashkel, we came upon a lone warrior being attacked by a large band of gnolls. We rushed to his aid, of course, although his speed and skill turned out to be so remarkable that it is likely he could have slain them all without our assistance. To my surprise I realized, as he was hacking down gnolls with lightning-fast strikes from dual-wielded scimitars, that this warrior was a fellow Drow.

"Well met, strangers," he said, once the last of the gnolls lay dead. "I am Drizzt Do'Urden, and I appreciate your assistance."

"Well met," I replied. "I am T'rissae, and my companions are Imoen, Viconia, Dynaheir, and Minsc and Boo."

"Six names? I see only five of you," said Drizzt.

"Boo is my hamster," Minsc spoke up. "He guides me in my kicking of the butt of Evil."

"Ah, your Animal Companion," Drizzt said. "You are, then, a fellow Ranger?" He exchanged a few more words with Minsc and then turned to me.

"Rare indeed is it that I meet fellow Drow on the surface," he said, "and even rarer that such a meeting is on friendly terms. When I saw your skin, and your height, my first thought that you were Cierre Tlabbar. You are not quite as tall, I see now, and she fights with sword and axe and carries a great longbow. A relative, perhaps?"

"It is possible," I said, "but I was brought up by humans and never knew my Drow family. Viconia mentioned Cierre to me but as one who lived in Menzoberranzan. I have heard of you, of course, but until I met Viconia the only Drow I had ever encountered was a mage who made a brief visit to Candlekeep. Shall we talk a while, and share our rations?" He was agreeable to my suggestion, and we moved away from the corpses of the gnolls and camped on the banks of the lake.

We built a small fire, caught some fish and gathered mushrooms, cooked the food and talked as we ate. I told Drizzt a little about the mystery of my background but he could shed no more light on it than had Viconia. We moved on to discussing the affairs of the lands in which we were traveling. He was merely passing through the territory of Baldur's Gate, on his way back to his home in Icewind Dale after an excursion into Amn, but he knew a surprising amount about the bandit raids plaguing this area.

"Those I have encountered are no mere vagabonds with blades," he told us. "The humans bear the mark of the Black Talon, and the hobgoblins that of the Chill. Mercenary groups, both of them, and as such it is unlikely that they are the prime architects of this endeavor. You would do well to insinuate into their ranks, and thus determine their true masters. Difficult, but not impossible, and potentially the most fruitful course."

"That would be true if I were not a Drow," I said. "Viconia and I are too easily identifiable, and I have met too many people aware of our activities against the bandits, for me to believe that they would not recognize me as an enemy. They might feign to accept us only to lure us into a trap where we could be slaughtered. I think that our best course of action will be to try to track a band back to their camp and then attack by night, with the traditional fire and the sword, taking advantage of our night vision. Imoen, Minsc, and Dynaheir all possess magic items that give them Infravision to almost match that of myself and Viconia. Hopefully that will give us enough of an edge to offset the bandits' advantage of numbers."

"A risky course, but if you believe they would recognize you as foes you may have no other choice," Drizzt said. "Would that I could join you, but I have tarried in these lands too long, and must return to Icewind Dale with all haste. I made a mistake thinking that I could travel on foot, for my progress has been slower than expected, and I will have to take a ship from Baldur's Gate to Neverwinter or Luskan to reach the Ten Towns by the time that I promised. If I meet Cierre I shall mention you to her, and enquire if she knows of any possible connection between you and her family, but she is a solitary wanderer, who roams the wildest parts of the Silver Marches, and our paths have crossed only twice. It could be years before I see her again."

I thanked him for his offer, and then he turned to Viconia.

"You hail from Menzoberranzan too, do you not? May I enquire what was your House, and what brought you to the surface world?"

"I am of House DeVir," Viconia said. "I did something that displeased the priestesses of… the Spider Queen, and thus brought shame upon my House. They would have sacrificed me, but my brother Valas saved me… at terrible cost. I escaped, and fled to the surface, as I could not survive on my own in the Underdark." There was pain in her voice as she mentioned her brother, and I thought I could see tears in her eyes. Imoen looked as if she would have been hugging Viconia if not for her previous experience.

"House DeVir? This must have been long ago," said Drizzt, "for House DeVir fell in the year of my birth."

"House DeVir fell?" Viconia exclaimed, sitting up very straight. "How so?"

"Did you not know? It was in the year of my birth, as I said," Drizzt said, "and so I can recount only what I have been told. House DeVir lost the favor of Lolth and my own House, Do'Urden, seized the chance to attack them. Most were slain, and the few survivors were absorbed into Do'Urden, save for one, Alton DeVir, who hid under the identity of the Faceless One and died years later in an attempt to kill me. I am sorry for your loss, and that it was my family who were responsible. House Do'Urden has fallen itself by now. House Baenre attacked and destroyed my House. My sister Vierna thought that killing me would regain the favor of Lolth, and thus enable her to restore House Do'Urden, but I was forced to kill her and her attempt failed. Both of our Houses now no longer exist."

Viconia grimaced. "It is hard to hear of the deaths of my family, even if they had cast me out, and would have killed me had they caught me," she said, "but I cannot hold it against you as you were a mere babe at the time. I must blame myself, for it may well be that it was my actions that caused House DeVir to lose the Spider Queen's favor and made them vulnerable."

"When were you born?" I asked Drizzt.

"As nearly as I can work out, it would have been 1297 by Dale Reckoning," he answered.

"1297, and you were found as a statue in 1298," I said to Viconia. "That means you spent a year petrified before you were found, and therefore a total of sixty-eight years in stone form."

"I do not wish to discuss this further," Viconia said, and I realized that I was being insensitive.

"You are sad, Viconia," Minsc observed. "Would you like to hold Boo? It will make you feel better, I am sure. It always makes me feel better to hold Boo."

"No, I would not like to hold your rodent, foolish one!" Viconia snapped, but then her voice softened. "But it was a kind offer and I thank you."

This conversation had cast a gloom over the party. I talked a little more with Drizzt about House Faen Tlabbar, for I felt that it was possible that they were indeed my real family; I supposed that it was even possible that Cierre was my mother, for I knew that Gorion had not told me the truth about my background and thus it could be that he had lied about my mother being dead, or had come to an incorrect conclusion after finding me without a mother. Drizzt had heard that Faen Tlabbar had risen until it was, to the best of his knowledge, Third House of Menzoberranzan. My supposed family were important and influential, it would seem, but if I sought them out in Menzoberranzan they would kill me at once because of my affiliation with Eilistraee. Drizzt pointed out that Cierre's eyes were amber in hue, whereas mine were a dark red, which was an indication that we might not be closely related after all. I still thought that it would be worth talking to her, and hopefully finding out more about our possible family connection, but the lands she roamed were far to the north and I doubted I would have any opportunity to travel there any time soon.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

We parted from Drizzt and resumed our adventuring. I decided that we were not quite ready to seek out the bandit camp and we traveled for a while in the lands close to the seashore. Near a disused lighthouse we met a beautiful human woman, a thief, who told us that she had learnt of a pirate treasure but could not get past the monsters guarding it. She asked for our aid in defeating the guardians in exchange for sharing the treasure. I did not detect any evil in her, although I suspected that she was perhaps not entirely trustworthy, and agreed.

Safana, as she was called, proved to be an engaging companion. She hailed from Calimshan and was skilled with a scimitar. Minsc was still carrying the enchanted scimitar-like blade that we had taken from the brigands who attacked us on the way to the Nashkel Mines, and that had served him as a back-up weapon, but it was less necessary now that he had a magical greatsword that would not fall victim to the corrosion from contaminated iron. He still desired a reserve weapon, however, and took over the enchanted mace had been Viconia's but which she had replaced with a superior war-hammer. We passed the scimitar on to Safana and she was well pleased with the gift.

Getting to the cave of pirate treasure meant fighting our way past hobgoblins, worgs, the woodland goblinoids called tasloi, and – worst of all – sirines. I would have negotiated with the sirines, had they been willing, but they would not listen and attacked with Dire Charm spells and envenomed arrows. After Minsc fell victim to a charm, and attacked us, we were forced to flee. Once the charm had worn off from our giant Ranger we returned, more cautiously, with a skeleton warrior summoned by Viconia as our vanguard. The skeleton was immune to charms and venom and we were able to slay the sirines with our own missile weapons. We acquired numerous poison arrows, and some valuable pearls, from the corpses and were able to proceed to the cave.

Inside the cave we encountered perilous traps but, with two thieves to disarm them, we came to no harm. The monstrous guardians of the treasure turned out to be flesh golems, invulnerable to normal weapons, but the poison arrows affected them and by now all of us were equipped with enchanted weaponry. With the golems destroyed we were able to reach the treasure chest of the pirate Black Alaric and it was well worth all our effort and pain.

A decent amount of gold, a few potions, some envenomed darts, a cloak that gave its wearer the ability to temporarily transform into the form of a wolf, and the main prize; a Manual of Bodily Health, that would permanently bestow upon a single reader an increase to endurance and the ability to withstand wounds and keep on fighting. I desired it, of course, but did not regard it as automatically mine by right. Somewhat to my surprise the whole party, even Safana, agreed that it should go either to me or to Minsc, as we were the ones who led in combat and so the most likely to require its benefits, and Minsc and I drew straws to decide who got it. I won, and in its place Minsc took the Cloak of the Wolf.

Safana volunteered to stay with the party and I was glad to accept her offer. An additional thief was always useful, doubling our chance of finding and disarming traps, and I began to consider the possibility of us setting traps for the bandits. Neither of the two was particularly skilled at the craft, both being more accustomed to disarming traps than to setting them, but I thought that between them they should be able to at least disconcert our foes. The details would depend on the numbers and disposition of the bandits, and the terrain around their camp, but Minsc would be able to scout that out in wolf form and remain unsuspected. I was beginning to come up with a plan although, of course, the final details would have to wait until we had seen the layout of the camp and its surroundings.

For the time being we continued our progress up the coast. Safana told us entertaining tales of adventures with pirates, although I was doubtful of their veracity, and her skills proved useful more than once. Safana and Viconia sometimes spoke to each other in Calishite Alzhedo, which I found irritating, and I understood for the first time how Imoen must feel when I conversed with Viconia in Ilythiirra. I refrained from objecting because I didn't want to be a hypocrite.

We entered an area infested with ogres, who were no great threat to us by this time, and also more sirines that attacked on sight and had to be slain. Later we met a related being, a nereid, who seemed friendlier at first. She appealed for our aid and then pressed a kiss on Minsc, who was embarrassed but not altogether unwilling, and our friend dropped in his tracks. He lay unmoving, not breathing, and I assumed he was dead.

I screamed, horrified, as did Dynaheir. At once I began a furious attack on the nereid, striking her as hard and fast as I could, and Viconia spoke a spell of Bless and then joined in. Imoen maneuvered to be able to shoot with her bow without striking us, Safana hurled darts, and Dynaheir unleashed a Magic Missile. The nereid fell to her knees.

"No!" she pleaded. "I cannot die for this. These are my actions, but not my intent. I but do as I am directed by my master."

I held back my finishing stroke. "You killed Minsc," I accused. The others followed my example and stopped their attacks.

"He is not yet fully dead," the nereid said. "I did but fill his air-breather lungs with water. I can restore him."

"Do so, then, and you live," I told her.

She clambered to her feet and bent over Minsc's body. "I would not be here at all," she said, touching his chest, "but my shawl is held by Ogre-Droth. It is my essence he commands, so to him I listen. It was a lark at first, but no longer." Water began to gush from Minsc's mouth and nose. "I do not want to harm you further, but if he so wills then I must. It is all I can do."

"Then I shall fight as best I can to release you from his grasp," I told her, "as long as Minsc is restored."

"Oh, that could be interesting," the nereid said. "Yes, do that. Your friend lives."

Minsc spluttered and sat up. He looked exceedingly pale but was undoubtedly alive.

We had no time to celebrate as an ominous figure nine feet tall approached with rapid strides. Blue-skinned, clad in red silk, with a katana thrust through his waist sash and wearing a helm decorated with short steel horns. Not a normal ogre but an ogre mage.

"What is this trouble, Shoal?" he growled at the nereid. "Why have you not destroyed these small pink and black ones? You are not to make me angry, water-child."

"It is not my fault, Ogre-Droth," she replied. "They are stronger than I."

"Pah!" Droth spat. "They are meat for larder and gold for purse. Kill them we shall!"

"As you say, so shall it be," the nereid, presumably Shoal, replied. She sounded scared, quite understandably, but I was sure that she would join in the ogre-mage's attack.

"By what right do you hold this creature captive, ogre?" I appealed, for Minsc looked ill enough that a single blow might well kill him for real and I hoped to avoid conflict until Viconia could fully heal him. "Return to her what is rightfully hers, and we will spare your lives."

Droth laughed. "She told you this? You struck soundly, to addle her mind so. 'Tis true that I possess her shawl, but water-child my mate. Envy of all others, I am. I am Ogre-Mage Droth! I kill, and kill well!" His massive hand went to the hilt of his katana and he began to draw the weapon.

I struck first. Minsc drew his sword and rushed to join me; Viconia had cast a Cure Medium Wounds spell on him, as I distracted the ogre-mage, and he no longer looked on the verge of death. Imoen loosed a shaft, Safana hurled a dart, and Dynaheir sent a Chromatic Orb spell at the monster. Viconia cast Command and the ogre-mage went down, obeying the command to sleep, and although the effect would be brief it was long enough for Minsc and I to hack him to death.

The nereid had taken no part in the fight but had hung back. She went to Droth's body and took from it a skein of cloth. "By the waters of home, I am free once more," she exclaimed. "You must pardon me for leaving so quick, but I'll not spend another second on this hard-land. It was a fun game, but it is stale now. Thank you, goodbye." She headed off in the direction of the sea, almost at a run, and I turned my attention to the ogre mage's body.

His purse contained a minor gem and over a hundred Lions. His silken robes were far too gashed and torn to be worth anything, but his katana would be eminently saleable. And his helm was strongly magical. Dynaheir's Identify spell revealed it to be the Gift of Peace, enchanted to make the wearer resistant to fire, cold, and electricity and more likely to escape the effects of other harmful magic. Minsc's helm gave him Infravision and thus was too useful to put aside, and so this one would go to myself or Viconia, and we decided it with a coin toss. I won.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Now, with the addition of Safana to our party, the equipment we now possessed, and the ease with which we had achieved victories over formidable opponents such as the sirines, bands of ogres, and Droth the ogre mage, I felt we were strong enough to take on even a full camp of well-armed bandits. As soon as Minsc was recovered enough to travel we headed first to High Hedge, the residence of the mage Thalantyr, to purchase additional charges for Dynaheir's magic wands.

From there we went to Beregost, where I learned that Jaheira and Khalid had visited, enquired after us and stayed for a day, but then departed. The morose elf Xan was not with them but the Wood Elf ranger Kivan, who had been so coldly hostile to us, had rejoined their group. In addition to the elf they had three new companions; a human paladin, Neera the pink-haired half-elf Wild Mage we had met previously, and a human priestess. Questioning the innkeeper revealed that Kivan had talked of them going hunting bandits, whereas Neera had said that they were to travel east, past Firewine Bridge, in search of a wise old mage who could teach her. I considered going after them but decided that the chances were that we would only miss them yet again, as the information about their destination was so slight and contradictory, and we had delayed seeking out the bandits long enough. That had to come next and it was possible, if the elf's word described their immediate intentions, that our paths would cross as we hunted.

After a night in the inn's best rooms we visited Taerom's smithy. He had been successful in coming up with a remedy for the iron corrosion, thanks to the contaminated ore and vials of iron poison we had brought him, and he was grateful enough to give us substantial discounts on our purchases. We stocked up on enchanted arrows, sling bullets, and crossbow bolts and Imoen purchased a suit of Shadow Armor. Thrice-enchanted studded leather, very light and flexible, of a black hue chosen to blend into shadows and make it easier for a thief to hide. Very useful. Imoen's existing set of enchanted leathers was passed on to Safana, after a little alteration by Taerom to make it a perfect fit, and then we set off for Peldvale and Larswood.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Yet again things proved to be not as straightforward as I expected. I elected to head east before turning north, hoping to enter the region of the bandit patrols from a less traveled direction and hopefully catch them by surprise, but my chosen route turned out to pass through a region infested with basilisks.

Viconia was horrified, even scared, but we had stocked up on Protection From Petrification scrolls, and Stone to Flesh scrolls, since I had heard her story. In the event the basilisks turned out to be relatively easy to deal with. A ghoul turned up and was actually able to talk, something unique in my experience, and it was willing to act as our scout and go ahead of us unaffected by the basilisk's petrifying gaze. We slew several with missiles, whilst the monsters concentrated unavailingly on the ghoul, and when the undead creature eventually turned on us we killed it in mere seconds. After that Viconia summoned a skeleton warrior, similarly immune to the gaze weapons, and it took over the advance guard role. Twice bands of gnolls attacked but each time we slew them before they could damage our skeleton shield.

At one point we came across another band of adventurers, four in number, who called out insults to us as if seeking to provoke a fight. I ignored their words, once I was sure these were not more bounty hunters, and restrained Viconia and Safana when they would have risen to the provocation. Alas, the adventurers made the mistake of saying something truly vile about Dynaheir. Minsc could not be restrained, bellowed "Evil, meet my sword! Sword, meet Evil!" and charged. The rest of us had no option but to join him.

The other adventurers were no match for us, especially as Minsc cut their mage almost in half with his first blow, and a rapid Magic Missile from Dynaheir broke their cleric's concentration as he sought to cast his first spell. The fight was brief and we slew them all before they could do us any harm. I regretted that we had had to kill them but, on reflection, I guessed that they had coveted our valuables but had not been sufficiently evil to attack us solely for that reason. They may have taunted us, hoping to provoke a fight, so that they could slay and rob us and pretend to themselves that they were justified and thus salve their consciences. If that was truly the case then they had brought their fates upon themselves.

Their corpses yielded some useful items, especially a sheaf of Stone to Flesh scrolls, and several potions and enchanted arrows. Most valuable, perhaps, was a silken sash enchanted to give its wearer some protection from attacks with slashing weapons. It had failed against Minsc but, considering the fury with which he had attacked, that was hardly surprising. We gave that item to Dynaheir, and passed on her Girdle of Bluntness to Safana, as her leather armor was more vulnerable to crushing blows than that of Imoen, and we divided up the other usable items as appropriate and took what we had no use for to be sold later.

We continued on and came upon what we might have thought to be garden filled with a beautiful collection of statuary had it been anywhere else. In this place we knew that the statues had to be living beings in stone form. There were humans, elves, halflings, gnolls, and bears mostly frozen in poses indicating that they had been petrified whilst attempting to defend themselves. A lesser basilisk lurked amongst the statues and our skeleton warrior made for it with its sword raised. As we began to pelt the basilisk with missiles a gnome in the robes of a mage appeared on the far side of the garden.

"Greetings," said the gnome, as a greater basilisk waddled into view behind him. Thankfully the skeleton was closer to the basilisk than we were. "I am Mutamin. I hope you enjoy the artwork my lizard friends have sculpted. They sculpt with their eyes. They sculpt when nasty travelers come by, yes. I don't like nasty travelers. They should keep to the roads."

"I shall destroy you and your lizards, _iblith_," Viconia hissed, and launched a sling bullet at his head. Dynaheir raised one of her wands and hit him with a Fireball, which also caught the greater basilisk in its blast. I loosed a bolt at the nearer basilisk, already injured by the skeleton and our first missiles, and it jerked and went still. The skeleton, unaffected by the petrifying gaze, headed for the second basilisk and Dynaheir put aside her wand lest she destroy our undead shield. Everyone aimed and loosed at the gnome, who was in the act of casting a spell, and he went down before his spell could be completed. We switched our aim to the greater basilisk and it perished quickly. Viconia went to the fallen gnome and struck him viciously with her hammer, making sure that he was dead, and then spat on his corpse.

A search of the surrounding area revealed no more basilisks, only another statue, and we relaxed. Viconia rushed to make use of our Stone to Flesh scrolls to free the petrified victims. There were fifteen statues in total, and we had only twelve of the scrolls, however three of the statues were bears and two were gnolls. We restored all of the others but left the animals and monsters as stone. Most of those we revived thanked us. Two pressed purses of coin upon us, despite my protests that we needed no reward, and one presented us with a pouch of healing potions. Two of them attacked us, I know not whether this was because they had been driven mad by their fate or if it was because of Viconia and I being Drow, and we were forced to slay them.

Viconia spoke kindly to all, save of course for those who attacked, showing a degree of compassion and empathy I had not expected of her. She had experienced petrification herself, of course, and for a much longer time – the longest any of these had been trapped as a statue was three years, by her reckoning – but, even so, it was something of a surprise to me. Still, we had been traveling together for nearly two months, by this time, and it seemed that my encouraging her to act in a good fashion, even if her inclination was to do otherwise, was beginning to have an effect. The red glow she registered on my Detect Evil spells, when she was caught up in one that I cast upon those we encountered who aroused my suspicions, was becoming fainter.

That was evident, once more, very soon after we finished turning the statues back into living people. We came upon a warrior woman, clad in plate mail armor and wearing a sword, standing beside the path that led in the direction of Larswood.

"Hold, travelers," she called. "I challenge your best warrior to a duel. I don't fight women, so only the man should step forward." She trained her eyes on Minsc.

"Why test yourself only against males, _jalil_?" Viconia asked, with a hint of a sneer in her voice. "Our best fighter is female, as it should be."

"I'd squash a little slip of a thing like you as if you were a bug," the woman said, presumably thinking Viconia was referring to herself and not to me. The human was broad of shoulder, and at least six feet tall, and no doubt she was correct – except that Viconia would not have restricted herself to physical combat. "The man's the only one who might give me any challenge. How about it, big man? Do you feel brave enough?"

"Boo says, fighting for no reason is silly," Minsc said. "We should kick the butts only of Evil."

His words caused me to cast Detect Evil on the woman. Challenging passers-by to combat, as a demonstration of skill, was a staple of knight-errantry but somehow this woman didn't strike me as falling into that category. Sure enough, she showed up a brilliant red, as bright as that I'd seen on the half-orc we'd met on the way to the Nashkel mines, and I guessed that she would be more interested in finding excuses to kill people than in simply displaying her skills. I noticed that Viconia, who had been caught in the area of the spell, barely registered at all.

"What would we have to gain from accepting your challenge?" I asked.

"I win, and you give me twenty gold," the woman answered. "In the unlikely event that your man bests me, I'll pledge my sword to your cause."

I shook my head. "I think not," I said. "I do not believe that you would fit in with our group. Minsc is not to take up your challenge."

"When I first saw you, I took you for cowards," she said. "I guess I was right. Good riddance." She stalked off, heading south, and we continued on our way.

**Glossary of Drow Phrases**

• _iblith_ = excrement, offal

• _jalil_ = female


	6. Chapter 5: The Living Daylights

**Chapter Five: The Living Daylights  
**

In Larswood the first enemies we encountered were gibberlings, hordes of them attacking in waves, but easily slain and an annoyance rather than a true threat. The next thing that happened was a truly strange occurrence. A swirling white vortex appeared in a clearing, disgorged a robed figure, and then closed and vanished. The figure landed on the ground, picked itself up, and began to utter a stream of complaints. We approached, cautiously but more intrigued than alarmed, and saw a male with black skin and white hair; a Drow, probably a wizard.

The Drow broke off from cursing someone not present when he noticed our arrival. "Oh, hello," he greeted us. "Well, this is awkward."

"Well met," I said. "I am T'rissae."

"Greetings, friendly, ah, surface-dwelling Drow, I presume?" he replied. "You wouldn't happen to know the direction of the nearest entrance to the Underdark, would you?"

Not a voluntary emigrant to the surface lands, then, and so I had no obligation to help him. Still, I would not hinder him, either, as long as he behaved himself. "I'm afraid I don't," I admitted. "Viconia, what about you?"

"My statue was found a long way to the north-east, I believe, and transported by wagon to Luskan, where Bhalar yn Faruk purchased me," she revealed. "I am not sure that I could find the place where I emerged into the surface world again, even if I was to be transported to that general area."

The male Drow pursed his lips. "Typical," he said. "This is particularly unfortunate for a popular power player like me."

"And who might you be?" I asked.

"How could I forget? Allow me to introduce myself. I am Baeloth Barrityl, more commonly known as Baeloth the Entertainer. Yes, I know, that Baeloth. Fall to your knees and beg for mercy, I'm sure you know the drill."

The Entertainer? A bard, then? He seemed to regard himself as sufficiently famous for us to have heard of him but, of course, I had not. "The thing about that is, I left my kneepads at home," I said, "and, well, you know how these things go. Have you heard of this male before, Viconia?"

"I have not, T'rissae," Viconia said, "but it is possibly he has become renowned only recently. Or, of course, he may simply be a blowhard and braggart. Drow do not generally leave the Underdark of their own accord. We should learn more before we decide what to do with him."

"Of course, slender one," Baeloth said. "Anything for a lady of such grace, or for the tall but elegant, and no doubt aptly named, Blade Dancer. Of what House are you? Please do not say Do'Urden."

"You have a grudge against House Do'Urden?" Viconia queried. "I am of House DeVir, and I have been told that House Do'Urden destroyed mine, but Drizzt Do'Urden treated us with some courtesy and I am not his foe."

"I was brought up by _rivvin_, and know not what House I may be from," I said, "although I have been told that it is possible that I am of House Faen Tlabbar."

"Oh, yes, they do tend to be tall," Baeloth said. "And… if you would remove your helm, so that I can get a clearer look at your face?" I did so. "Yes, you even look a little like Sil'zet Tlabbar. You're taller than her, but not as tall as that other daughter, the one who went off to the surface and wouldn't come back, I forget her name."

"Cierre Tlabbar," I put in.

"Yes, that was it," Baeloth said. "You know her, I take it?"

"No, I've only been told about her," I said. "You were supposed to be telling us about yourself."

"Ah, yes, no doubt you are crawling with questions," he said. "My most recent project was a little something I called the Black Pits. Mortal pitted against mortal in a desperate bid to survive. You must have heard of it."

"I have not," I said. That sounded like gladiatorial games, and not with willing participants.

"You must be well out of the loop. It was a marvelous sight. The roaring crowd, my obedient djinn slave keeping the prisoners in line, the sound of hammer on bone… ah, such fond memories."

I began to feel revulsion welling up in me and a strong urge to smite him with my sword. As he continued with his tale, telling of how he had controlled the djinn with a geas and forced it to serve as his servant, I surreptitiously cast Detect Evil. As I had suspected, Baeloth showed up very strongly. He went on to relate how his operation had collapsed when the prisoners revolted, tricked him into fighting them, and defeated him and nearly ended his life. He'd escaped by commanding his genie to save his life but had been transported to this place instead of, as he'd expected, to the Underdark.

"I seem to have lost some of my powers, too," he lamented, "but even in this diminished state I must remain one of the top five spellcasters in the Realms." Somehow, I doubted that his boast was true. "If someone, namely you, were to offer me martial protection, I'm sure I could be of great help to… whatever it is that you're doing."

I felt conflicted. On one hand, there was the commandment of my goddess that I should give aid to all Drow returning to the surface world; on the other, the fact that this Drow was an unrepentant slaver and organizer of death matches with unwilling contestants. I could foresee that allowing Baeloth to join us would be asking for trouble, and might well end with me being forced to slay good people in his defense, whereas such had not been the case with Viconia and was growing even less likely as time went on. I decided that my only option was to decline his offer to join us, but still to offer him aid of a lesser degree.

"I am afraid I cannot allow you to join our company," I told him.

"No, no, NO!" Baeloth protested. "You cannot leave me here, you moronic miscreant! There will be pale-skinned barbarians everywhere and they will attack me on sight."

"They don't attack me or Viconia on sight," I pointed out, ignoring Viconia's muttered addition of 'any longer'.

"Because you're traveling with several of the pale-skinned _rivvin_," Baeloth said, "although one of them is decidedly not pale, I admit. I can't travel the surface on my own! I need protection."

"I will draw a map for you showing the way to the Friendly Arm Inn," I said. "It's not far from here, and if you are as great a mage as you claim you should be able to defend yourself well enough to reach there safely. No-one there bothered Viconia or me, even when we were accompanied only by Imoen, and you will be safe and comfortable there as long as you do not steal or start any fights. If you do not have the funds to pay for accommodation, I will provide you with some."

"Humph!" Baeloth snorted. "An inadequate substitute for true protection – but better than nothing, I suppose."

I drew the map for him, handed it over, and gave him a few directions. He took the map and listened to my directions, uttered a few words of grudging thanks, and departed without having taken me up on my offer of financial assistance.

"A shame, really," Safana commented. She had occupied herself by searching the gibberling corpses whilst I had been talking with Baeloth; the feral creatures had no use for money but seemed to be attracted by shiny things, and often carried the odd coin or gleaming stone. Often those stones were just valueless quartz but occasionally they were semi-precious, or once in a while even precious, gemstones. "An extra mage hurling Fireballs might have come in handy, and Drow are supposed to be good in bed. I'd have liked the chance to find out."

"I had a feeling that he would have directed the Fireballs at us if he thought it would be to his advantage," I told her, "and I'm not willing to take the risk."

"He did not strike me as one who would be skilled in the arts of the bedchamber," Viconia remarked, and added a few words in Azeri that brought a laugh from Safana.

At that moment we heard a yell, the 'Whoomph!' of a Fireball detonating, and then more yells. We at once readied our weapons.

"Help me!" Baeloth cried, racing into the clearing, running so fast that I deduced he must be Hasted. "The barbarians are trying to kill me!"

I readied my crossbow and called for everyone else to prepare to fight. I kept an eye on Baeloth, as he scuttled to put us between himself and whoever was pursuing him, as I couldn't be totally certain that he wasn't in league with our foes and setting us up for an attack from two sides. I would have spoken to Viconia in Ilythiirra, to pass on my suspicions without alerting him, but that of course would be futile as he would speak it too – the same applied to signaling with the Silent Tongue, the Drow language of hand gestures, which I suddenly realized that I knew; another mystery from my unknown past. I spoke no Azeri or Rashemi, so secretly warning Safana, or Minsc and Dynaheir, was out. Imoen was close by me, luckily, and I warned her, keeping my voice low, hopefully quietly enough to be inaudible to Baeloth.

My suspicions proved groundless. The pursuers burst out of the trees in ones and twos, first bandits in leathers and then heavily-armed mercenaries in splint mail, and all bent their bows and began to loose shafts as soon as they saw us. Dynaheir used a Web spell to enmesh them, all of us save Imoen – who was watching Baeloth – bombarded the bandits with missiles, and Baeloth unleashed a Fireball spell at our foes and not at us.

The fight did not last long. The ragged arrival of the bandits had meant that we could target each with several missiles for every one they loosed at us. The mercenaries used magical Arrows of Ice, which burst on impact into an icy ball of pure cold, sending a painful and numbing chill even through armor. I was struck twice, and my magic resistance did nothing to mitigate the effect, and Minsc, Safana, and Baeloth were struck once each. None of us took serious harm, though, and once our foes were all slain Viconia and I were able to restore all of us to full health in short order. Their remaining arrows, a full two score of the Arrows of Ice and two dozen arrows enchanted in conventional fashion, were added to the quivers of our archers.

"I suppose I have to thank you again," Baeloth said, "although I thought you said that I'd be safe if I headed for the inn you mentioned."

"I said you'd be safe once you were there," I corrected him, "and said nothing about the journey, and traveling in this region is never completely safe. I admit, however, that I did not think to warn you about the brigands. I did not realize that they were close at hand, and in such numbers, or I would have warned you."

I surveyed the scene of the fight and saw that Safana and Imoen were stripping the mercenaries of their armor and Viconia was taking scalps. I repressed a shudder and considered. Five sets of splint mail, and a dozen bows, would be worth taking and selling but would be about as much as we could carry without impairing our mobility. It might be worth taking them to the Friendly Arm Inn, for sale, before continuing our bandit hunt.

"We will escort you to the inn," I decided, "although it will delay our own business."

Baeloth's company, on the march to the inn, was only mildly annoying. We parted from him there and I had a few words with Bentley Mirrorshade.

"I do not vouch for the Drow mage," I told the gnome innkeeper. "I don't trust him enough to allow him to join my company. Still, I believe he is unlikely to start fights, and I doubt if he would stoop to petty theft. The worst he might do, in my opinion, is attempt to fleece your customers by enticing them into gambling games."

"That is between him and them," Bentley said, "but I will be alert for dishonesty or for his actions provoking fighting. He is welcome here as long as he behaves himself." I sold our loot, gave Baeloth a share – much to his surprise – as he had, after all, fought alongside us, and we rested for the night and then headed out again.

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The mercenaries had worn the insignia of the Black Talons, as Drizzt had advised us would be the case, and they had been well-equipped and organized. Our easy victory had been due to them having become scattered in pursuing Baeloth, and had we stumbled upon them unawares, or had they come at us in a group rather than dispersed, they might have posed us a serious danger. We were more cautious as we resumed our search of Larswood. Our two thieves, and Minsc in wolf form, scouted ahead and were able to locate the next group of bandits before they were aware of us.

We hit them with spells and missiles before they could react and they fell quickly. The same fate befell another band, and then another, and after that the area seemed to be clear save for a few wolves, bears, and huge spiders. We killed the spiders, and the wolves when they attacked, and two of the bears. Those that did not threaten us we left alone.

The last opposition we met before leaving Larswood were two druids, one who seemed to be insane, accused us of murder, and attacked, and another who seemed friendly at first. His reaction to us killing his colleague, as we had been forced to do, did not seem right to me. He took it too calmly, apologizing for the other druid's madness, and was far too blasé about a fellow druid's death for my liking. I questioned him, querying his odd attitude, and he grew angry, admitted to having hoped we would kill his fellow, and summoned two bears to attack us. We killed them, and him, and then made another trip back to the Friendly Arm Inn to sell off what we had taken from the bandits.

Baeloth had caused no trouble in our absence although he was, as I had guessed, trying to organize gambling games. Bentley had no complaints. We sold him our loot, although the price he would give us for the splint mail and bows was reduced because he now had plenty in stock, but it had still been worth our while making the journey. If we acquired more, however, the price we would receive might well be lower still and I decided we would no longer bother taking Black Talon armor unless it was enchanted. Viconia hung on to the bandit scalps, as Bentley had placed no bounty on bandits and would have paid us only a pittance, Traveling to Beregost, where each would bring us fifty Lions, would take us too far out of our way. At least they were light and did not take up too much space.

Safana did take Baeloth to bed but, next morning, professed herself dissatisfied with the encounter. She talked with Viconia in Azeri, with some laughter, and I suspected that they were discussing it in enough detail that it would have made me uncomfortable had I understood. For the first time I was thankful for my lack of knowledge of a language.

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Peldvale, where Imoen and I had first met Viconia, was our next destination. There were fewer bandits there than in Larswood but we did come upon one large group. None of them were the well-armored Black Talons and a single Fireball from Dynaheir took out almost all of them. We finished off the rest with missiles and searched the bodies. One, presumably their leader, had owned an enchanted war-hammer but it was inferior to the one Viconia already owned. It went into our stock of loot for sale and we left the rest of their belongings behind. Viconia took their scalps, of course.

We had had little success in trying to back-track the bandits, up to this point, but this band had been so large that they had left enough of a trail for Minsc to follow, although I could see only occasional signs of their passage, and he led us northward through the forest for some hours. Several times he lost the trail but each time was able to pick it up again. Eventually we were able to see the smoke from multiple camp-fires ahead and we advanced, slowly, and with extreme caution.

It might have been a legitimate hunting or logging camp, or even a detachment of the Flaming Fist on bandit-hunting operations, but after scouting ahead in wolf form Minsc was able to confirm that the occupants were the bandits we sought. There were many of them and their encampment included a very large tent, on a wooden base, that looked as if it was intended as a permanent dwelling. There were no palisades, or trenches, or any other defensive works. There were, however, frequent perimeter patrols.

We spent hours carrying out reconnaissance. Minsc in wolf form, and Imoen and Safana under Invisibility spells, investigating the camp whilst the rest of us, less stealthy, stayed back. There were seven tents in all, we saw, six of them of about the right size to house up to eight people and the other perhaps capable of sleeping twenty. Our scouts saw little coming and going from that tent, however, and we guessed that it belonged to the leader of the bandits and would hold only the boss, his lieutenants, a bodyguard or two and perhaps some camp followers – or enslaved female captives. There was also a cave that had its entrance blocked up from the outside and we guessed that to be a holding pen for prisoners.

The bandits were a mix of humans and hobgoblins. Most were clad only in leather armor, although a few wore the splint mail we had found on the elite Black Talons we had slain, and they seemed to be armed only with short-bows and swords. There was one figure, a man almost the size of Minsc, who wore full plate armor and helm. He seemed to be the one giving the orders; perhaps the 'Tazok' of whom we had been told by Mulahey, the author of the letter we had found in the possession of Tranzig, and thus the chief of the bandits. All together Imoen and Safana counted forty-six of the bandits, too many to be housed by the tents, but we worked out that the day-time patrols and night-time patrols alternated their shifts, each group sleeping whilst the other was out patrolling and sharing the tents. The camp was crammed to capacity with bandits.

Forty-six bandits, at the least, for there could well have been others within the command tent who did not come out whilst we were observing. I feared that the odds against the six of us were so overwhelming that even my plan of a night attack would not be enough. We rested during the day to regain spells, camping outside the path of their patrols and with traps laid by Imoen and Safana to protect us, but I was contemplating retreating, for the time being, and seeking to gather reinforcements.

Baeloth would join, perhaps, if we allowed him to stay near the rear, casting spells from there with relatively little risk, and promised to pay him well. The half-orc we had met near Nashkel, who now seemed to be residing at the Friendly Arm Inn, would no doubt be willing to join us temporarily. Or we could go back to the area where we had fought basilisks and recruit the woman who challenged passers-by, assuming Minsc could defeat her; I was sure she would be happy to join us merely for the chance to kill men without consequences. All of those were people I with whom I was extremely loath to associate but their company, on a temporary basis, would be better than taking on the bandits with a force of only six.

Or, perhaps, we might be lucky enough to cross paths with Jaheira, Khalid, and their current companions. Despite Jaheira's dislike of Viconia I believed she would be willing to set aside her hostility long enough for them to fight with us against the bandits, especially as this seemed to be in accordance with the wishes of the Wood Elf, and twelve against forty-six would be far more manageable odds. Then, as darkness fell and the time came for me to make a definite decision, Safana reported that she had seen a new group of bandits, eight in number, entering the camp dragging a couple of women prisoners along with them.

That seemed to settle it. Odds of forty-six against six was intimidating, but fifty-four to six would be nigh impossible. I was about to give the command to depart, and return to the Friendly Arm Inn, when I heard a faint noise on the wind. Female screams.

I could not stand by and do nothing whilst innocents were suffering, regardless of the odds, and I leapt to my feet. "Time to act! Potions, everyone, and ready weapons and spells." I expected objections from Safana, and perhaps from Viconia and Dynaheir too, but none came. Everyone responded immediately. It seemed the effects from the Tome of Leadership and Influence were even stronger than I had thought, or else that I was misjudging the others and their capacity for empathy, bravery, and selflessness was greater than I had believed.

We downed our potions of Speed, more useful than Haste spells because they lasted much longer and didn't have the side-effect of leaving the user totally exhausted when they ran out, and went into action. Our first move was to take out the nearest patrol, killing them as quickly and quietly as possible, and then we advanced toward the camp. The sky was overcast, blocking out the light from the moon, and preserving our advantage from the infravision all of us had either naturally or from magic items. A light drizzle of rain was falling, too light to affect the cooking fires and oil-soaked torches which illuminated the camp, but probably enough to hamper any attempts we made to set tents alight to spread fear and confusion.

Once close to the camp we could see many of the bandits out of their tents and active. A group of hobgoblins were off to one side, sitting or standing around a cooking fire, separate from the humans. Most of the humans were standing in a circle with the two female prisoners in the middle. The bandits were shoving the captives around, passing them one to another, tearing at their clothes at each shove so that the women were being gradually stripped. A cruel game which I guessed would have a vile ending.

"Summon creatures to aid our attack," I told Dynaheir, "and then Fireball those hobgoblins as soon as we're in range. Don't target the humans, in case you hit the prisoners too."

"As thy command," Dynaheir responded, ungrammatically as usual, but I had far more important things to worry about.

"We're going to have to hit them more openly than I'd planned," I told the others. "The summoned monsters will go on ahead, we shoot from the rear as long as possible, and then the usual charge by me and Minsc with the rest of you covering us. Dynaheir, use Webs to block off the sides so, hopefully, we don't get surrounded. Viconia, time to cast Bless, I think, and then Chant."

"'_Zil dos quarth, Jabbress_," she assented, in Ilythiirra.

Dynaheir used her Wand of Monster Summoning and an ogre, two gnolls, a dire wolf and a hobgoblin archer appeared in front of her, just in time to be included in the effects of Viconia's Bless spell. Dynaheir wasn't within Fireball range of the hobgoblins yet and we began to move forward as Viconia started her chant.

One of the captive women in the middle of the circle of bandits lost her last piece of clothing. The bandit who had ripped it off shouted in triumph and seized her, as the rest of them cheered, and I realized what were the rules of the game. Whosoever was the one to remove the final garment got the woman as his prize. I wasn't going to allow her to be… abused and I made a quick amendment to our attack plan. I quickly communicated the change to Dynaheir and, as I was doing that, the bandit dragged his prize out through the circle of his fellows and brought a temporary halt to their shoving and grabbing of the other woman. It was time to attack.

I lobbed a flask of Oil of Fiery Burning into the hobgoblins' fire, throwing it further than Dynaheir could have projected a Fireball, and it exploded into a circle of flame that enveloped the hobgoblins and sent them running and screaming, their clothes and flesh burning, and several of them went down and didn't get up. I yelled "Attack!" and raised my loaded and cocked crossbow. Minsc drew and loosed. His arrow took one of the bandits in the back and sent him sprawling into the center of the circle. Viconia sent a sling bullet accurately into the face of the man holding the naked woman. He reeled back, his face suddenly a mask of blood, and released his hold. I had been about to shoot at the same man but switched targets hastily, cursing myself for not having realized that he would have been the obvious choice for Viconia, and shot the bandit closest to him. Imoen and Safana hit other bandits and Dynaheir sent a Web spell to block off the remaining hobgoblins from coming at us from the side. The ogre, gnolls, and wolf charged and the summoned hobgoblin archer finished off one of the burned, but still standing, members of his race.

"Run, woman!" I yelled at the nude captive, as I worked the cocking lever to reload my Crossbow of Speed. She obeyed but ran straight into Dynaheir's Web spell and became stuck. I loosed the bolt at a bandit who was nocking an arrow to his bow, hitting him in the arm, and cast the crossbow aside and drew my sword. "Minsc, sword time!" I called, and we charged into the firelight.

Most of the bandits in the circle were clad in leather armor, with only a couple being the Black Talon elites in splint mail, and few had their bows with them. They may have set them aside because of the cruel game they were playing, or to keep the bowstrings dry in the light rain, but whatever the reason it put them at a big disadvantage. Minsc and I reached them without any arrows coming at us and even before some of them had drawn swords. We hacked them down without mercy, trying to slay as many as possible before they organized, with Minsc roaring "Evil, meet my sword! Sword, meet Evil!" as he struck. Our summoned monsters were doing the same, although their vocal accompaniment was restricted to growls, and more than a dozen bandits went down in the first moments of our assault.

Then a figure in full plate armor and shield approached, a man nearly as big as Minsc, wielding a war hammer. He confronted Minsc, who struck out with his sword, but the blade merely bounced from the steel cuirass and failed to penetrate. The armored warrior struck back, his hammer hitting Minsc's breastplate, and Minsc was driven back.

"I need bigger sword!" Minsc exclaimed, and he struck again but with no more success than the first time.

I was engaged with a mail-clad Black Talon, who had managed to draw sword and was skillful enough to avoid my first blow, and I could not go to Minsc's aid immediately. My opponent tried to get in close, to negate the advantage of my longer weapon, but I parried his thrust and swept my blade down and around. I connected with his leg, nearly severing it, and finished him off with a thrust to the throat. I was about to head for Minsc when I saw that another bandit had seized the remaining woman captive, holding her in front of him as a living shield, and was holding a dagger to her throat.

"Back off or I'll kill her!" he warned, in a voice that sounded as if he was on the verge of panic. I did not obey. I took three steps, closing on him rapidly with the help of the Potion of Speed, and then performed a ballestra and thrust. He didn't have time to react and the point of my sword went through his eye socket, above the woman's head, and into his brain. His grasp relaxed and he toppled backward, leaving the woman free and standing there almost naked, and I shouted at her to run. She obeyed and went past me, running out of the firelight into the darkness where Imoen and Safana lurked with their bows, and I cut the legs out from under a bandit who tried to catch her as she fled.

By now the other bandits had killed the wolf and one of the gnolls. The ogre and remaining gnoll were fighting on, keeping several bandits occupied, and Dynaheir had cast her second Web spell to protect our other flank. Viconia had advanced to near where Minsc fought the presumed bandit chief, ready to cast healing spells on Minsc when the opportunity presented itself, for Minsc was getting the worst of the combat despite the magical boost to his speed. He was continuing to strike with the blade of his sword, despite it proving ineffective against the armor, and he didn't think to change over to the mace that hung at his belt. His foe's hammer was at no such disadvantage against Minsc's plate mail and Minsc was in danger of being overcome.

I reversed my sword, holding it by the blade, and rushed to the attack. I swung my sword in the 'murder-stroke', striking with the pommel as if it were a mace, and connected solidly with the bandit chieftain's helm. He reeled under the impact, staggered two paces sideways, and for a moment stood dazed and swaying. Minsc struck another mighty blow, this time aiming at the helm, and although he didn't think to use the pommel, as I had done, the impact of the blade was enough to send the bandit staggering back in my direction, his hammer and shield hanging limply, wide open to another blow from me. This time he went down, sprawling on his back, and lay still. There was a dent in his helm deep enough that I guessed it indicated a fractured skull, or similar disabling injury, but I did not want to risk him being only stunned and recovering to attack us again. I shifted my grip on the sword to the half-sword position, for maximum control, and bent to thrust the point down through the eye-slit of his visor. It went in only a couple of inches and so I stood up straight, grasped the hilt in a conventional grip, and put all my weight behind the thrust. The blade went in so far, and so firmly, that I had to put one foot on his head and heave before I could get the sword out.

His death made the other bandits falter for a moment and this gave me the time I needed to retrieve my sword. I heard one cry out "He's killed Khosann!" and guessed that the armored man had not been, as I had thought, the 'Tazok' whom I had seen referred to previously. Presumably Khosann had been the second-in-command, or the leader of the Black Talon contingent amongst the brigands, and there was still another leader to find. I had no time to consider the matter for the remaining bandits soon regained their courage, bolstered by their advantage of numbers, and came at me again.

Viconia had seized the opportunity to heal Minsc and my warrior comrade returned to the fray with might and main. With cries of "Go for the eyes, Boo! Go for the eyes!" he hacked down every bandit who came within range. I emulated his feats, striking with perhaps less sheer power but more precision, and the ogre and gnoll took down a few more before they fell.

"Behind us!" I heard Imoen yell, and I realized that bandits must have circled around the Webs to come at us from the rear. I was too hard pressed to disengage and deal with the new threat but Dynaheir was ready. I heard the 'Whoomph!' of a Fireball spell going off, some screams, and then the sound of her wand being activated and the growling of new summoned monsters. I continued my attacks on the bandits secure in the knowledge that our rear was covered, at least for the time being, until Dynaheir's first Web spell expired and the naked woman who had been trapped there ran back in my direction. A dozen hobgoblins appeared behind her and headed for me at a quick marching pace.

"Minsc, Viconia, fall back!" I commanded, and I began to back away. Hobgoblins almost always carried bows, usually better ones than those used by the low-ranking human members of the bandit gang, and often poisoned their arrows. "Go that way!" I told the nude woman, or rather girl, for I saw that she looked to be younger than Imoen. I pointed with my sword and she headed in that direction. Viconia obeyed my command to retreat immediately but Minsc kept right on hacking away at the bandits. "Minsc!" I yelled, at the top of my voice. "Get back here! Now!" This time he obeyed.

We regrouped further back, with the screen of summoned monsters between us and the human bandits who had come at our position from the rear, and I recovered my crossbow from where I had cast it aside. The hobgoblins had halted, within the circle of light from the fires and torches, and were linking up with the human survivors of our assault there. I realized that they had made a tactical mistake. The light would be interfering with their infravision, and we were in the dark, and we would be hard for them to see whereas we could see them plainly. Similarly, the humans on the other side of us were blundering around in the dark and we, all of whom had infravision either naturally or through magic, were at no such disadvantage.

"Dynaheir, can you reach the hobgoblins with a Fireball?" I asked.

"Thine wish is mine command," said Dynaheir, and a couple of seconds later a fiery blast erupted where the hobgoblins were standing. Some of them went down, as did almost all the humans in their vicinity, and when the fire died away those remaining charged directly at us.

"Minsc, with me," I said, loosing one last bolt from my crossbow and then laying it down – carefully, this time – and drawing my sword again. We charged to meet the remaining hobgoblins, all of whom were suffering from Fireball burns, and slew them all. I led Minsc back to where the rest of us waited, retrieved my crossbow again, and paused for a word to the two rescued captives. "Ladies, stay in the middle of our group," I advised them. "You should be safe with us. I'll see about getting you some clothes as soon as we've dealt with the bandits." There was no time for me to listen to their thanks, for the bandits at our rear had at last forced their way through the summoned monsters, and I led Minsc in another charge to meet them before they could close with the lighter-armed members of our party.

A couple of the bandits had lit torches, and there was enough light for them to see us and fight back, but we were hasted, wearing better armor, and wielding weapons that gave us a great advantage of reach. We slew several and then an arrow came out of nowhere and struck me in the chest. It didn't penetrate my enchanted mail but burst against it, in a freezing blast, that sent pain through me and made me gasp for breath. An Arrow of Ice, as used by the elite members of the Black Talons. Another arrow streaked toward Minsc, leaving a faint trail of white light behind it, but narrowly missed. Yet another came at me but I was able to dodge.

I realized that the bandits had been more intelligent about their encircling movement than I had thought. The Black Talon elites were hanging back, and had refrained from loosing arrows at the summoned monsters, so that they could remain unsuspected and target us when we counter-attacked the lesser bandits. The light of the torches was spoiling my infravision, and illuminating us for them, and for the moment they had the advantage that we had had over the lesser bandits. Minsc and I were in peril. But then a skeleton warrior materialized beside me, no doubt conjured up by Viconia, and headed into the darkness toward the archers. A clever move, as skeletons had no flesh to be pierced by arrows, and only a direct hit on a bone could injure them, and they weren't bothered by cold. I reminded myself to thank Viconia later and laid into my remaining opponents with renewed vigor.

It didn't take long for Minsc and me, supported by arrows from Imoen and Safana, to slay the rest of the rank-and-file bandits. I was struck by one more Arrow of Ice, as I fought, but again it did not penetrate and did me only minor hurt. The torch-bearers died, and their torches fell, and I extinguished the only one that didn't go out by dumping a bandit's body on top of it. My infravision returned and I could see the Black Talon elites, four of them, two of whom had put aside their bows and were wielding swords against the skeleton. In the other direction I could see the vapors of a Stinking Cloud, presumably cast by Dynaheir, forming a barrier against any more bandits coming out of the camp and attacking us from there. Our flanks were protected by thickets that would make approach difficult, and we just needed to get rid of the Black Talons. I led Minsc in yet another charge and we killed all four in less than a minute.

By now I was weary, my muscles aching, and I had lost count of how many I had killed. After taking a couple of healing potions I tried to estimate how many of the enemy had fallen in total, between our swords, missiles, and spells, and came to the conclusion that we'd slain at least forty and quite probably more. There might only be a dozen, or even fewer, of the bandits remaining. It was almost time to move on into the camp but first I had a quick word with Minsc.

"Minsc," I said, "when you fought the man in full plate, your sword couldn't get through his armor. You saw how I dealt with him. Why didn't you use the same technique, or, better still, use the mace you have hanging on your belt?"

Minsc hung his head. "I did not think of it, T'rissae," he said. Boo squeaked. "Thank you, Boo," Minsc said. "Boo says he did not know a mace would be better against full armor. Now that he knows, he will remind me if it happens again."

Either Boo was intelligent even by the standards of a Ranger's animal companion, or else Minsc was deluded and attributing his own thoughts to the hamster. I wasn't certain of which explanation was correct but Minsc was unwaveringly brave, utterly reliable, and a perfect gentleman in every way; a great comrade and I liked him very much. If it was a delusion that kept him functional, I was happy to play along with it. "Thank Boo from me, too," I said, and went back to considering our situation and planning for our assault on the camp.

We would have to take the rescued women with us, as I could think of no safe place to leave them where they would not be in danger of bandits coming across them, but they were reminded to stay in the middle of the group. Hopefully that would be good enough to keep them safe. The bulk of our belongings were stashed some distance away, and we had not been able to provide adequate clothing for them, but Safana cut arm and head holes in a sack (which I had a horrible feeling had been intended for bandit scalps) and Viconia produced a shawl of Calishite silk to serve as a wrap-around skirt, and those would have to suffice as clothing for the time being.

Before long the Stinking Cloud dissipated and we advanced into the camp. Viconia's skeleton warrior, still substantially intact other than missing a couple of ribs, served as our vanguard. A small group of bandit archers almost blundered into us; they seemed to have been patrolling on the opposite side of the camp to us and had returned to find a scene of devastation, bodies strewn around, and were confused and frightened. There was a brief fight, in which most of them fell quickly, and the survivors turned and fled. We shot them down without mercy.

After that we investigated the tents. We left the big one for last and checked the others out one by one. In three we found bandits, twice a single human and once a lone hobgoblin, either unaware of what had happened outside or else too scared to emerge; we didn't ask any questions, just killed them at once. Chests and barrels in the tents, and stashed around their outer edges, held gold, potions, and clothing. Not just the bandits' own clothes but some women's clothes, presumably taken from victims, that enabled us to at last get the two rescued captives properly clad.

We had taken time to talk to them, by now, and had learned that they were a mother, Gilleen, and daughter, Nelilee, from Beregost. They had seen us there, on the occasions when we had passed through, and were aware of our reputation and so had not reacted adversely when they saw that two of us were Drow. Gilleen had been recently widowed and they had been going to Baldur's Gate to join her brother, who ran a bakery there, when the caravan they were traveling with was attacked by the bandits. All the men in the caravan had been murdered and they had been dragged off as captives; we had seen their intended fate.

In our initial reconnaissance we had noticed a cave, near the tents, that had had its entrance blocked off. Our guess was that it was a holding pen for prisoners and, on that assumption, we entered. It was indeed a holding pen but for a dozen gnolls, allied with the bandits, who were being punished for brawling in camp. We learnt this during the first seconds of our entry, when they took us for bandit officers and wanted to know if they were to be allowed out yet. Our answers did not satisfy them.

"We in here because of trouble we cause in camp!" the biggest gnoll, no doubt their leader, growled. "Big brawl two nights back. You should know that… unless you not Blacktalon. You not smell right. You die!"

They charged and we met them in our usual fashion, with Minsc and me taking them on with swords and the others using missile weapons from behind us, but the space was limited and they closed quickly. Viconia and Safana were forced to resort to their close-quarter weaponry and I feared that the gnolls would reach the defenseless Gilleen and Nelilee, whom we had been silly enough to bring into the cave with us, before we could stop them. It was a close thing, for a moment, but the savagery of the gnolls did not prevail over our greater skill at arms. The last gnoll went down without us having suffered any injuries other than a minor cut on Safana's arm.

We had been careless, and lucky not to have suffered worse consequences, and it was my fault. I'd made an assumption and as a result we'd entered the cave not as prepared for combat as we should have been. If the gnolls had been better armed, and not weakened by having been cooped up in a stinking cave for two days, they might have made us pay for our lack of caution. I resolved not to make the same mistake again. The only part of the camp that remained to be checked was the large tent, presumably the commander's, and I wasn't going to assume that it was unguarded. It might well be, as surely any guards inside would have heard the noise of the fighting and come out to assist their colleagues, but I couldn't take that for granted. Tazok, whoever he was, might have a personal guard under strict orders to stay there and guard his tent and his treasure; if so, they might be formidable. Alas, Dynaheir knew no scrying spells that would enable us to see inside the tent before we entered, and so we would just have to be ready for anything.

The Potions of Speed were still in effect, although probably not for much longer, and I decided to stick to my sword rather than having my crossbow ready for use. Inside the tent I'd be able to close to melee range quickly enough that there was no point in using the ranged weapon, especially as I was much less proficient with it than with my sword, and Minsc, although much better with his bow than I was with the crossbow, might as well stick to his sword too. I asked Dynaheir to have Magic Missile ready, in case we met a spell-caster inside the tent, so that she could disrupt their casting as quickly as possible. For the same reason I advised Safana to use darts, rather than her bow, as the range would be short and darts could be thrown quickly. She had some Darts of Wounding, with tips coated in venom, and they were ideal for use against spell-casters as they inflicted concentration-breaking pain for quite some time. We left Gilleen and Nelilee in another tent, where they should be safe for a while, and entered the command tent.

My precautions proved to be wise. The tent was occupied; I saw six inside, although two were chained up and presumably prisoners. Facing us were two humans and a gnoll, with a hobgoblin lurking at the rear of the tent, and they were ready for a fight. One of the humans wore the robes of a mage, and raised his hands as if to cast a spell, but he was hit by Dynaheir's Magic Missile before he could finish the incantation and an instant later a dart from Safana struck him in the face. The other human and the gnoll came at us with sword and glaive, and the hobgoblin loosed arrows, and Minsc and I met the fighters with our swords as the others pelted the mage with missiles. The human fighter wore only leather armor and, although he was fast and skillful, he could not match Minsc's strength and potion-granted speed. The gnoll was large, even by gnoll standards, but he was set upon by Viconia's skeleton and I slew him as he was smashing its bones. Once those foes, and the mage, had fallen we turned on the hobgoblin and slew it. Not before it had struck both Minsc and Dynaheir with envenomed arrows, weakening both and disrupting Dynaheir's spell-casting, but Viconia cured Dynaheir and the Rashemi witch was then able to do the same for Minsc. We were free to turn our attention to the captives in chains.

On taking a closer look at one of them I realized the solution to something that had been slightly puzzling me. Gilleen was a good-looking woman, and her daughter Nelilee a pretty girl, and I would have thought that such captives would have been reserved for the chieftain rather than immediately made the sport of the rank and file. This captive, however, was more than pretty; she was quite remarkably beautiful. Delicate elfin features and pointed ears, slim of build, but with prominent breasts, more so than on any elf I had seen; significantly larger than mine, or those of Viconia, who was the only elf other than myself whom I had ever seen naked. This woman wasn't naked but the diaphanous robe which was her only garment was sheer enough that little was left to the imagination. A nymph, I guessed; she bore a resemblance to the dryad we had aided to the south-west of Nashkel, but had pale skin and red-brown hair rather than the dryad's brown skin and green hair. If the bandit chief had a nymph as his concubine it would explain why he wouldn't bother with other female captives.

It was said that nymphs could slay men with nothing more than their naked beauty, and that presumably explained her robe. I had read that they had druidic powers, and could teleport, and I wondered how her captors had kept her trapped here. The answer lay in her chains. They were of cold-forged iron, which negated the magic of the Fey, and which we only managed to remove with considerable effort and the use of an enchanted war-hammer. As soon as they were gone the nymph thanked us, pressed a lock of her hair into my hand, and then vanished in a swirl of magic before I could ask her any questions.

The other prisoner was an Elf, a male, and in a bad way. He was unconscious, obviously had been beaten severely, and his right leg was broken. Viconia tended to him, getting Minsc to help her put the leg bones into position before casting a Cure Medium Wounds spell, and he began to stir.

"Shar looks upon us with favor," Viconia remarked. "I sense that I have been granted more spells."

I had noticed that Viconia was gradually developing more empathy and compassion, and her treatment of someone who was suffering was now likely to be accompanied by kind words rather than scathing remarks, but I had not thought that this would meet with her goddess's approval. Perhaps Shar's aspect as the Goddess of Loss was a bigger part of her than I had realized, or perhaps it was coincidental, and what had really gained Shar's favor was Viconia's part in slaughtering some sixty or so bandits.

The prisoner opened his eyes. "It's time, then, is it?" he asked. Despite his obvious Elven appearance, too pronounced even for him to be a Half-Elf, his accent was that of a city human.

I had no idea what he meant. "Time for what?"

"My execution," he said, and then he sat up. "You're not with him, are you, though? No, I'd smell his rancid breath on you if you were, and… you've killed his guards. Blow me, you're a Drow! Never expected to get rescued by one of your kind… two of your kind… uh, you are rescuing me, ain't you?"

"We'll get those chains off you," I said, "and you can tell us why you were a prisoner and what you know about what the bandits were doing."

"My name's Ender Sai, and I was trying to find out what was going on, when they caught me," he told us, once we'd freed him and healed his remaining injuries. "Found out quite a lot, I did. This whole place is dirty to the core. These aren't your ordinary bandits, just out for a bit of loot, they're organized. They're part Black Talons and part Chill, Chill being a demi-human band, mostly hobgoblins, led by that creepy smart one, Azenor Crush. There be others elsewhere, like that priest Mulahey sent to poison the mines at Nashkel. Set himself up as a kobold god returned and legions of the brainless, barking, fools believed him, ready to follow him 'til death do they part…"

"Mulahey's dead," I told him. "We slew him and cleared the kobolds out of the mines. We know he was working for Tazok. What can you tell us about Tazok? Do you know where he is, and who he's working for?"

"Tazok's a great big bloke, bigger than your lad there," Ender said, and I wondered if Tazok had been the one who slew Gorion. "Some kind of cross with an ogre, I reckon. All the other bandits are shit scared of him. 'Course, he's not the top boss. Crush, and Taurgosz Khosann who runs the Black Talons, think he's getting orders from the Zhents, and Tazok doesn't do much to discourage that kind of thinking. See, the Black Talons and the Chill started out as mercenaries, but now they're bandit groups, ply the trade routes, avoid the cities, and that's where they go wrong. I'm from the Gate, and I can tell you dead as leather the Zhentarim aren't behind this."

"How can you be so sure?"

"A desire for silence isn't the only reason I wear soft-soled boots," he said, baffling me for a moment until he elaborated. "I wear them so I can tell whose toes I'm treading on. I didn't mess with no Zhentarim. I pick my enemies, and I messed with one group and one group only. The Iron Throne. And, right as rain, here I am as Tazok's personal prisoner, due to get killed as soon as he thinks he's found out all I know and he gets tired of beating on me whenever he isn't shagging his nymph – you've set her free already, right?"

"We have," I confirmed. "Where is Tazok, and when is he likely to be back? I don't want us to be caught unawares by a powerful foe."

"He headed out right after he had a bunch of gnolls thrown in the slammer for starting fights," Ender said. "It's been hard for me to keep track of time, way I've been treated, but I'd guess it's two, maybe three, days back. I heard he was going to the mine the Iron Throne runs at the far side of the Cloakwood. I'd reckon that's about three days' travel away, maybe more, so I don't think you need worry about him walking in on you. I'm guessing you've killed the rest of these bastards, am I right?"

"You are," I confirmed. "It was tough, but we'd prepared thoroughly, and rigged things so we'd have all the advantages despite our small numbers. There might possibly be one or two hiding in the woods, or who have run away, but as far as we could tell we got them all. We left this tent for last."

"What, just the six of you? I thought there must be another whole bunch of you still outside. Not bad going, lass. Still, you'd better be careful of Tazok, he's bloody tough, and the people he works for are downright scary."

The revelation that Tazok was merely an underling tended to make me think that he wasn't Gorion's killer after all. That big man hadn't had the air of someone who was a mere lackey and I was fairly sure that, despite his size, he was human and not a half-breed of any kind. Perhaps there might be documents in the tent that would give me more clues… and, indeed, there were.

Imoen and Safana had been looting the place whilst I was talking with Ender Sai, as was typical of them, and they'd found some interesting things. The hobgoblin had used a bow that turned out to be enchanted, more so than Minsc's existing bow, although with a lesser draw weight. A set of gauntlets in a chest proved to be Gauntlets of Weapon Expertise, a match for those I had won from the crazy swordsman near Firewine Bridge, and the mage wore a minor enchanted robe and carried an assortment of useful spell scrolls. The two girls gathered up nearly three thousand five hundred Lions, plus a few gems, from the chests and the dead bodies. And two letters.

One of the letters warned Tazok about a 'small band of mercenaries' who might cause the Iron Throne trouble in the future, ordered him to have them killed, and advised him to obtain the services of the assassin Nimbul to that end. As Nimbul was the one who had attacked us in Nashkel it meant that the 'mercenaries' were us. The other letter ordered Tazok to step up his bandit raids on iron shipments and send a ton of ore to the Cloakwood mine. It said that someone named 'Sarevok' wanted to know if the 'mercenaries' had been killed yet, and warned Tazok that if we hadn't Sarevok would not take it well. Both letters were signed 'Davaeorn'.

I pondered their meaning and consulted with the others. Davaeorn had referred to superiors, which meant that he wasn't the one at the top of the bandit operation, but was higher than Tazok. The other man named, Sarevok, appeared to be the one most interested in having us killed. He could well be the source of the bounty notices, and it was possible that he had been the man who slew Gorion, but there wasn't enough hard evidence to be certain. We would have to go to the Cloakwood mine, or to the Iron Throne's base in Baldur's Gate, to find out more. I'd decide later which course to pursue.

Ender Sai had been fed barely enough to keep him alive, and was in little better shape than Dynaheir had been when we rescued her from the gnolls, and for that matter the rest of us were starting to feel distinctly hungry and weary. We collected Gilleen and Nelilee from where we had left them and they volunteered to cook a meal; something for which I was very glad, because I had little skill in the art, Viconia refused point blank to lower herself to perform a task she thought of as purely the province of servants or slaves, Dynaheir too thought cooking beneath her, Imoen tended to get wildly inventive and produce combinations that were too strange to be enjoyable, Safana's previous experience on pirate ships meant that she would eat almost anything, and she thought herself successful if her cooking staved off scurvy and didn't actually kill you, and that left Minsc, who could produce meals that were edible, healthy, and boring.

Whilst waiting for the meal to be ready we occupied ourselves in searching some of the bodies we had slain earlier. Taurgosz Khosann, the leader of the Black Talons, gave us the richest haul. His war-hammer and shield were enchanted and the armor he wore, against which Minsc's sword had battered in vain, wasn't enchanted but was of expert make and the finest steel. And it fit Minsc with only minor adjustments. We reorganized our magic items; Minsc took the Longbow of Marksmanship and the Gauntlets of Weapon Expertise, as well as the armor, and passed the Gauntlets of Dexterity on to Dynaheir as she was the least dexterous and agile of our party. Viconia acquired a Wand of Fear that we'd discovered in one of the tents. Ender Sai had possessed an enchanted short-sword and a few other minor items, which we recovered and gave back to him, and there were enough healing potions to more than replace those we had used; no Potions of Speed, sadly, but there was a Potion of Heroism which could come in useful. And Viconia and Safana made a start on scalping the fallen bandits.

By the time we had eaten all of us badly needed sleep. We settled ourselves in one of the lesser tents and, of course, maintained a guard through the rest of the night. Our normal routine was for Viconia to take the first watch and me to take the second, as we needed only half as much sleep as the humans, but now I felt it better for Viconia to sleep first so that she could regain her spells. Nothing of note happened during my watch and when Viconia took my place I settled down to sleep.

And I dreamed.

I dreamt that I wandered unseen through the camp as it had been before our attack, teeming with bandits, who ignored me. Then I rose up into the sky, flew like a bird, and then plunged back to the ground and kept going down. I descended into what I would guess was the Underdark, my descent stopped, and I found myself face to face with an exact stone replica of myself; as if I had been petrified by a basilisk.

A voice filled my ears, saying "Such pride undeserved, great predator, when your whole being is borrowed. Credit where it is due, and dues where payment is demanded." A dagger of bone, like the one I had seen in my dream following the clearing of the Nashkel mines, flew past me and struck the statue, cracking it, but I felt pain as if I had been stabbed. "You were made as you are," the voice said, "and you can also be broken." The dream ended there, and I think I slept normally from then until I awoke, but on rising I discovered that I had gained a new ability; I could cast Slow Poison without need of an incantation. A useful skill… but the association of the abilities I was acquiring with extremely disturbing dreams was worrying.

Why would Eilistraee, the only logical source of my added powers, accompany them with images of dread? Could they in fact be being bestowed on me by some other deity, Lolth perhaps, for nefarious reasons? That made no sense to me. Or was I being given them by Shar, as some kind of reward for my kindness toward Viconia, with the dreams being a side-effect of Shar's evil nature? That didn't make sense to me either. It remained a mystery. Perhaps if I could learn more about my background, especially why my memories had been manipulated, I might be able to come up with an explanation. I needed, more than ever, to question Jaheira and Khalid.

And, in the morning, I got my chance to do just that.

**Glossary of Drow Phrases**

• _'Zil dos quarth, Jabbress_ = As you command, female leader

• _rivvin_ = human (plural)


	7. Chapter 6: Touchy!

**Chapter Six: Touchy!**

We had broken our fast and were completing our search of the camp and its surroundings. Viconia was filling a sack with scalps; adding these to the ones we had taken in Peldvale we would have more than seventy. I still found the idea repulsive but over three thousand five hundred Lions would be a significant addition to our war chest. Then Minsc, who was on guard, reported that several people were approaching. I assumed that these were bandits, returning from a raid, and told Gilleen and Nelilee to shelter in the nearest tent while the rest of us prepared for battle.

It wasn't bandits, but the party of Jaheira and Khalid. The two half-elves were accompanied by the companions we had heard about in Beregost; the taciturn elf ranger Kivan, Neera the half-elf mage, a paladin, and a female human cleric.

Jaheira and Khalid were better equipped than when we had seen them last; Jaheira was even wearing ankheg plate armor, and Khalid was in regular plate mail. The sword at his hip looked to be of high quality, and quite probably enchanted, although without being able to see the blade there was no way to tell for sure. Their companions were all equipped to a fairly high standard, too; whatever adventures they had been on, parallel to ours, had presumably paid off quite well.

"Jaheira, Khalid, well met," I greeted them, perhaps less sincerely than was proper. "If you are hunting the bandits, you are too late."

"I can see that, Drow," Jaheira said, her voice cold, "and also the barbaric way in which you have mutilated their bodies."

"Hey!" Imoen protested, before I could suppress the surge of anger that I felt when Jaheira addressed me as 'Drow'. "It was Officer Vai of the Flaming Fist who asked us to take their scalps. Trissie wasn't happy about it at all, and it took Vai ages to talk her into going along with it."

"Why should we care what is done to the bodies of those scum?" Kivan asked Jaheira. "I came here to kill them, and avenge my Deheriana." I guessed that he was referring to a loved one who had been slain by the bandits. "Now," he said to me, "where is the body of Tazok?"

"He wasn't here," I told him. "Ender Sai, who was their prisoner, believes that he won't be back for at least three days."

"Then I shall wait for him, and slay him when he returns," Kivan said.

I didn't volunteer to tell him where Tazok had gone, mainly because Jaheira's harsh words had irritated me so much, and he didn't ask. Instead I raised the subject that was most important to me.

"What do you know of my parentage, Jaheira? Or you, Khalid?"

Jaheira blinked. "Nothing," she said, "other than that it is obvious that your parents were Drow. Why?"

"G-Gorion said something about your m-mother being a priestess of Eilistraee," Khalid added, "b-but nothing else."

"Then you don't know why Gorion had my memory erased?" I pressed.

"What?" Jaheira sounded shocked. "You must be mistaken, or have been lied to. Gorion would never have done anything like that."

"Then why can I remember nothing of my life before Candlekeep, and yet I speak perfect Ilythiirra? I have always been able to speak it, and I even think in Ilythiirra when I'm talking with Viconia, and yet I was never taught it at Candlekeep. My earliest clear memories are of Imoen as a child of perhaps six or so, when I was already reaching puberty, and Viconia tells me that I must have been between fifteen and twenty at that time. That was some ten years ago. Everything before then is a blank… except for a vague memory of running from some danger, with Gorion leading the way. Why do I remember nothing else?" I was almost shouting by that time.

Jaheira shook her head. "Gorion would never have altered your memories," she repeated. "He told us he had rescued you from a massacre, when you were at an age equivalent to a human girl of perhaps twelve summers, but he told us no more. Perhaps the shock of the experience made you forget your past."

"T-Trauma," Khalid put it.

"Yes, that's it," said Jaheira.

"Did he even know my mother, or was that just another of his lies?" I asked.

"Only that she was a priestess of Eilistraee, as Khalid told you," Jaheira said. "He did say something once about not telling you about your father until the time was right, but he would say no more to me than that."

"The letter," Khalid prompted her.

"Oh, yes, he said he had written a letter to you, explaining things that you would need to know, and left it where you would find it if anything happened to him."

I groaned. I guessed that he had meant the desk in his room in Candlekeep, which had a secret compartment that he had shown to me, and he had even told me that if he failed to return from one of his journeys I should look there. Now, however, I was unable to enter Candlekeep and had no way of obtaining the letter. Unless I could find a book rare or valuable enough to serve as my entry fee… I groaned again as I remembered the two magical books we had found, and which I had read, only for them to destroy themselves as their magic was released. They might have… no, on second thoughts, books which could only be read once before vanishing would not have been acceptable. There was no reason for me to chastise myself for reading those books. Mentally chastising Gorion for choosing to leave the letter where it would be inaccessible to me once I left Candlekeep, however…

I was left frustrated, and puzzled by the reference to my father, about whom Gorion had claimed to know nothing. How could my father be significant? The Drow were a matriarchal society and only the mother counted with regard to inheritance. Only the worshippers of Vhaeraun treated males as equal to females, or sometimes superior if they departed from the strict letter of Vhaeraun's teachings, and from the little I knew of them they didn't have any equivalent of the House system. I didn't see how I could inherit rank or position from any male Drow and the question of why someone should want me dead remained as mysterious as ever.

Jaheira's revelation might have left me as baffled as before but it did have the effect of making me feel somewhat more charitable toward her. This feeling didn't last for long. Within minutes she was berating me for not doing anything about disposing of the bandits' corpses. The paladin, a squire named Ajantis, cast Detect Evil on Viconia and, when it revealed only a dim flicker of red, accused her of attempting to use magic to hide her Evil nature. He went on to declare that I was no true paladin, for I was associating with one who was Evil, and I must be an impostor as the gods granted the status and powers of paladins only to humans.

I managed to keep a check on my anger. "I am what I am," I said. "It is my aim to become a Silverhair Knight in the service of Eilistraee. Gorion arranged for Sir Bezamorn Thornstarr, a retired Undead Hunter, to instruct me in the ways and arts of the paladin, that being the closest equivalent to a Silverhair Knight that he could find."

"I know of no Sir Bezamorn," Ajantis said.

"He was nearly eighty years old and had been retired for twenty years," I informed him. "I'd be surprised if you did know him." Ajantis was a young man by human standards and I doubted if he could be more than twenty-one.

"I knew Sir Bezamorn," Jaheira put in. "He was a true knight and adventured with Gorion in the past, although before our association with Gorion began, and they kept in touch after Sir Bezamorn gave up the adventuring life. I met him more than once."

"I h-heard that they had fought a d-dragon together," Khalid added. "S-Sir B-Bezamorn was a great p-paladin in his day."

"Even so," Ajantis said, "she cannot be a paladin. She is a Drow, and associates with another of her foul kind, whose Evil nature was revealed by my spell despite their attempts to hide it. By that association she betrays her alleged calling."

"Have it your way," I said. "I don't care whether you call me a paladin or not. I shall live according to the principles of Eilistraee, as I understand them, and I shall make my own choice of friends."

"Cease, Ajantis," Jaheira said. "It is a matter between her and her goddess and, although I question her choices, I cannot deny that her intentions are worthy. Now, we must resolve the question of what to do with the bodies."

Burying them, as Jaheira wanted, would take far too long to be practical. I would have left them where they fell but Jaheira pointed out that this would give the predators in the area the chance to become accustomed to feasting on human flesh. Eventually we compromised, and hauled the corpses into the cave where we had slain the gnolls, and then blocked up the entrance with rocks and tree branches piled up on top of the remnants of the original barricade. It wasn't up to the standards of the tombs south of the Firewine bridge, where we'd fought undead and found Dynaheir's Wand of Monster Summoning, but it would just have to be enough.

When we'd completed that task we sold Minsc's former bow, the enchanted composite longbow made superfluous by his acquisition of the Longbow of Marksmanship, to Kivan for twelve hundred Lions. Slightly less than we would have received for it at the Thunderhammer Smithy, and a lot less than Kivan would have had to pay for it there, but getting rid of it lightened our load and we had more loot than we could carry. The prices we were receiving for non-magical weapons and armor were dropping every time we sold a new batch, as the smithy and the shops were accumulating enough stock to last them for months, but it was still worth our while to gather up bandits' shortbows and the splint mail worn by the Black Talons. If the prices fell any lower then we'd reconsider.

After that we prepared to depart. Jaheira's party remained behind, waiting for Tazok to return, although I told them before we separated that Tazok had gone to the Cloakwood. I had mellowed slightly toward Jaheira, as I had to admit that she was honest and fair-minded, although I still found her bluntness annoying and hated her attitude to Viconia. I advised her that she needed to recruit a Rogue into her group, as without one they were too vulnerable to traps, and opening locked doors and chests by battering them with weapons was far too noisy and could mean that valuable items within the chests were broken in the process. She looked down her nose at me, and said that she was well aware of the benefits of employing a Rogue, but that she had not yet met one who would be compatible. And then she tried to recruit Safana, who turned her down; I wasn't sure if it was because of her loyalty to me, her friendship with Viconia, or just because she regarded Jaheira as too strict and straight-laced. We could have coped without Safana, as Imoen was just as proficient, but Imoen had been contemplating giving up the Rogue profession in favor of becoming a Mage and, anyway, Safana could be entertaining company. I was glad she had chosen to remain with us.

We left the bandit camp and went first to the Friendly Arm Inn, escorting the two ladies and Ender Sai, and from there they would be able to join other travelers and make it to Baldur's Gate in safety. We sold some of the items we had picked up at the bandit camp, lightening our loads considerably, and then set off for Beregost. The sacks of bandit scalps were now so large that they were becoming cumbersome but represented far too big a sum to discard. They were even larger after we encountered yet another band of brigands on the road.

Officer Vai, in Beregost, was delighted with the results of our campaign against the bandits. It turned out that her war chest didn't hold enough cash to pay us the full amount of the bounties; she gave us two and a half thousand in coin and a promissory note, redeemable at the Flaming Fist headquarters in Baldur's Gate, for the rest. I didn't mind; we had ample coin for our expenses and the note was much easier to carry than the gold would have been. We spent a night in Beregost in the most luxury the town could provide; the finest meal, accompanied by fine wines, then hot baths and a night's sleep between silken sheets. I even partook of the wine myself; no doubt Ajantis would have accused me of decadence unbecoming a paladin but I had seen nothing in Eilistraee's teachings that insisted on asceticism. I did restrict myself to two glasses, however, as I wanted to keep a clear head. Imoen was not so restrained and, when we left in the morning, she was pale, nauseous, and suffering from a headache.

Back we went to the Friendly Arm Inn, which was much nearer to the Cloakwood, and found that Gilleen, Nelilee, and Ender Sai had all departed for Baldur's Gate. The big half-orc we had met near Nashkel was there, and offered his services to me again. I declined.

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The Cloakwood was wild and almost untouched by civilization. Hardly had we entered the fringes of the forest when we were attacked by tasloi, semi-arboreal primitive relatives of goblins, but they were too weak to pose us much threat. Some of their fallen were carrying gold coins, although I didn't understand why when they would have had no way of spending them; perhaps they just liked them because they were shiny and didn't tarnish. One tasloi warrior was carrying an enchanted cloak, a Cloak of Non-Detection, which I believed was the stolen property of a dwarf in Beregost. We took it to return to him, although Safana wanted to keep it, but I quelled her objections by pointing out that the dwarf would be likely to reward us and, anyway, there was no reason for us not to use it in the meantime.

Not much further into the woods we came upon one of the few signs of civilization in the area, a substantial house, which turned out to be a hunting lodge belonging to a wealthy Baldur's Gate merchant named Aldeth Sashenstar. He came out and hailed us, as we passed by, and then appealed to us for aid. He told us he had quarreled with druids in the area, who objected to his hunting, and the quarrel had escalated to violence and one of his hunting party had been killed. Since then he and his remaining comrades had been besieged in the lodge and he asked us to help him resolve the situation.

Hardly had he finished his explanation when four druids arrived. Their leader, Seniyad, seemed to be an important figure among the druids and carried himself with the air of someone confident in his abilities. Confidence verging on arrogance, perhaps, and it made him totally unreasonable.

I stuck my sword in the ground beside me, point down, and tried my best to negotiate a peaceful settlement. I questioned Aldeth and found that he and his associates came to the hunting lodge only once a year, for a ten-day including traveling time, and they did not kill indiscriminately. They followed the customary rules of nobles on hunts, going for the most impressive specimens, and avoided killing females and young. They did not waste what they slew but ate the venison if they killed a stag and took the pelts of wolves and bears. I didn't see the point of trophy hunting, personally, but I felt their limited excursions didn't really do too much harm to the wildlife. In our own wanderings through the wilderness we'd undoubtedly killed far more animals, in self-defense and for food, than had Aldeth's party in all their hunting trips put together.

Seniyad did not agree. He accused Aldeth of killing one of the druids, which Aldeth did not deny, but the druids had killed one of Aldeth's group and so they were even on that score. I tried to persuade them than it would be better to accept the deaths as regrettable errors and not make things worse by continuing the conflict. Aldeth was perfectly willing to agree, and wanted only to return to Baldur's Gate and not come back to the Cloakwood until the same time next year, but Seniyad would not compromise. My powers of persuasion, even though boosted by my having read the enchanted Tome and in theory also by the lock of nymph's hair that I carried, had no effect on him whatsoever. Seniyad continued to threaten Aldeth with violence and, as I kept on trying to calm him down, his threats began to include me and my party. Eventually he gave up on peaceful negotiation altogether.

"You have made your choice, fools," he snarled. "Now you will suffer together with your hunter friends." He raised his hands in an unmistakable spell-casting gesture; probably Call Lightning. He didn't complete the spell because Safana stabbed him in the back.

His companions cast Flame Blade and tried to attack. I snatched my sword from out of the ground and killed the nearest. Minsc slew another, Viconia brained the last with her war-hammer, and Safana finished off Seniyad as he tried to heal himself.

Aldeth had barely managed to draw his sword by the time the last of the druids was dead. He was impressed by our prowess but regretted that it had had to come to violence; a sentiment that raised my opinion of him. He rewarded us for our assistance by presenting me with a Potion of Heroism and invited us to visit him if we were in Baldur's Gate. Then he and his companions departed, saying they were already overdue at home and needed to return with all haste to their families and businesses, leaving us to dispose of the druids' bodies. Imoen and Safana were sufficiently annoyed by this to take it as an excuse to loot the hunting lodge. I ordered them to restrain themselves and they did, although Imoen pouted at me and Safana called me a spoilsport, and they took only some enchanted arrows and a couple of potions.

We pressed on until we came to a wooden bridge over a small river. By that time, as well as the druids and the tasloi, we had killed twelve wolves, five worgs, eight giant spiders, and two bears. Perhaps some of them might have been engaging in bluff charges, merely indicating that they wanted us out of their territory, but I didn't know a lot about animal behavior, and Minsc was no help, and we had to treat them as genuine threats and kill them all. And, unlike Aldeth's hunting party, we just left the bodies where they fell. Really Seniyad and his druids should have rethought their priorities.

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There was a man, or rather a male Elf, sitting on the bridge. He stood as we approached and for a moment seemed to be about to jump into the water. He relaxed as we drew near, as we were making no hostile moves, but remained close enough to jump if necessary. He was wearing leather armor, and I guessed that he was a good swimmer, making his position ideal if he had to escape from enemies wearing steel plate or mail. We had no intention of attacking him unless he opened hostilities, and so his precautions were unnecessary, but he wasn't to know that.

He introduced himself as Coran, a fighter and thief, and said that he was on a hunt for a bounty. That immediately put me on guard, and the same applied to the others, and hands drifted toward weapons. He appeared startled and hastened to clarify his statement. The mayor of Beregost had offered a two thousand Lion bounty for slaying a dragon, which had been preying on livestock in the area, and that was what he was after. Dragons might have been a little out of our league, at this time, but he went on to explain that the descriptions of the 'dragon' mentioned its deadly barbed tail. That description fitted a wyvern, a less dangerous beast, rather than a true dragon. It was still too formidable a foe for him to tackle by himself, and his previous companions had lost their nerve and deserted him when they came to an area overrun by swarms of deadly giant spiders, and so he was looking for new partners. If we agreed then, after the wyvern was slain and the bounty collected, he would stay with our company for our own adventures.

It seemed a reasonable offer, and I was tempted to take him up on it, but first I thought I'd test out his reaction to seeing that I'm a Drow. I took off my helm, and signaled Viconia to do the same, and his eyes widened. He did not recoil in horror, however; quite the opposite. He began to make similar flirtatious comments to the ones Garrick, the bard in Beregost, had made. Not just to me, but to all of us – well, not to Minsc. His attitude made me uncomfortable and I foresaw problems when I performed my ritual dances, naked under the moon, for Eilistraee. There had never been a problem through having Minsc in our party, as he was always a perfect gentleman, but I doubted that the same applied to Coran. It would be better to turn him down. Then I remembered Jaheira's need for a Rogue.

"We are on a mission that might not give us an opportunity to hunt the wyvern," I told him, "and so I will have to decline your offer. However, I know of another group that are in need of a thief. They might well be willing to take your deal." I told him where he might find Jaheira's party, and how he would be able to recognize them, and he thanked me. "If we come across the wyvern, and slay it, I would be foolish not to claim the bounty," I continued, "but you deserve a share for telling us about it. If you had joined us, you would have received a one seventh share. What's a seventh of two thousand? Seven into twenty goes…"

"Two hundred and eighty-five Lions, seven silver shillings, and one copper penny," Imoen interrupted, before I had even calculated the second digit.

"Uh, yes," I said. "You wouldn't have shared in the danger of the actual slaying, so perhaps not a full share, but shall we say two hundred and fifty? If we claim the bounty, I shall leave two hundred and fifty Lions with the mayor for you."

"A generous offer, and I thank you," Coran said. "You are as fair in your dealings as you are fair of face." That remark only confirmed to me that my decision not to recruit him was the right one. "The bounty is to be collected from the High Priest of the Morninglord, who also holds the position of mayor," he added. "Leave my share with him."

"A pity, really," Safana remarked, after Coran had departed in the direction of the Friendly Arm Inn. "It could have been… interesting, having a handsome and smooth-talking man around."

"Interesting for you, perhaps," I said, "but inconvenient for me. You are not required to worship your goddess by dancing, naked, in the moonlight."

Safana laughed. "True," she said, "although I would not be as averse as you are to being watched by a man as I danced. You should lighten up a little."

"I am a paladin who was brought up by monks," I replied. "What do you expect?" She laughed again, and dropped the subject.

We resumed our journey and pressed on deeper into the woods. After a few hours we met a young man, clad more after the manner of a peasant than an adventurer, standing in a clearing by a river bank and looking lost. We approached him cautiously; it seemed suspicious that someone so apparently defenseless was alone in such a wild place, which by my estimation must have been close to where Coran's original companions had deserted him because of the perils, and so he might well be more dangerous than he appeared; a werewolf, perhaps.

He wasn't. He was exactly what he appeared to be, a young peasant, by the name of Tiber. His brother Chelak had found a powerfully enchanted sword, the famous Spider's Bane, and had thought to use it to wipe out the colony of giant spiders that infested this area. By this deed he hoped to become a famous hero. He had left Tiber behind, in a place they had judged to be a safe site for a camp, and had pressed on alone as the sword's powers could be used only by one person. That had been half a ten-day ago and he had not returned. Tiber had not dared proceed into the area ahead, where the spiders swarmed, to seek his brother but neither could he face returning home without him. He appealed to us to find Chelak for him. I agreed to try, of course; it was my duty to help those in need, and we were heading in that direction anyway.

I soon realized why Coran's companions had decided that discretion was the better part of valor. The area was crawling with spiders, of more lethal breeds than we had faced before, and also the vile spider-like humanoids known as ettercaps. Some texts I had read claimed that they were crossbreeds of humans with spiders, although I could not believe that to be possible, and others that they were evil humans transformed into a spider-like form. They were loathsome, whatever their true origin, and cunning enough to lay traps that propelled sticky webs at any who tripped them. We stumbled into one almost as soon as we left the clearing. Luckily, we had already slain the only spiders in the vicinity with missiles at a distance, and we merely had to endure being held immobile for a while before the webs weakened in the sunlight and we could break free. After that our two thieves worked full time at clearing the tripwires, or trip web-strands as they perhaps should be called, from our path.

Our progress was slow, and perilous, but rewarding. On one path we stumbled on a corpse, dead from spider venom and partially eaten, and we thought at first that we had found Chelak. There was no sign of any sword that could have been Spider's Bane but it could have been taken by some other adventurer before us. An incomplete letter in the dead man's pouch, that mentioned going on a hunt with Coran and someone named 'Eldoth', indicated that the dead man had been one of Coran's original companions. Either it was his death that had caused his fellows to abandon the expedition, and Coran had neglected to tell us that detail, or else the abandonment had been feigned and their true intention had been to go on without Coran. There was nothing in the letter that gave the writer's name, or indicated to whom it was to have been sent, and so we would not be able to inform his loved ones of his fate. We piled rocks over the body, to form a crude cairn, and moved on.

Some of the spiders in this area were phase spiders, with the magical power of instantaneous travel over short distances, and they used that ability in their attacks. One moment they were at bow range and the next were right next to us. A couple of us suffered bites from their venomous fangs but, as three of us were capable of neutralizing the venom, we took no serious harm. More deadly still was the sword spider, which had forelegs tipped with chitinous blades seemingly as hard and sharp as steel, slashing at us so that fighting it was like fighting a skilled dual-wielding swordsman. It inflicted several wounds before we could kill it.

Then, near a beautiful glade where a waterfall sparkled, we came upon a strange and hideous structure. A large mound of earth and tree branches, on which no grass grew, with a mesh of cobwebs binding the material together. There was a doorway on one side of the mound, with thick branches serving as pillars and lintel, and so it must have had an interior space. A dwelling, or a meeting place, even perhaps a primitive temple? Were ettercaps sufficiently sentient to build such a thing? I would not have thought so, but I was no expert, and all I had to go on was my memory of a fairly brief section on ettercaps in Elminster's Ecologies. I considered it more likely that it had been built by humanoids, perhaps a strange druidic cult, although the only intelligent race known to me that associated with spiders was… the Drow.

Could this be Drow structure? Surely not. I could not envisage the Drow building something so primitive and ugly. Unless… some exiled Drow with little access to tools? I consulted with Viconia, but she was adamant that no Drow would be seen dead in something so crude. Whatever the mound's origin, we would have to go in to learn more, and as by now we had searched almost every inch of this part of the woods without finding Chelak the interior of the mound was almost the only place he could be. We went in through the doorway, cautiously of course, with weapons ready.

The interior resembled a hut of some barbarian tribe, although much larger, with a floor of interwoven rushes and thin branches. There was no firepit; instead, in the center, sat a grotesque figure. A human woman, naked, so fat that movement must have been almost impossible for her. A number of spiders, including at least two sword spiders, surrounded her. They turned to face us as we entered but did not immediately attack.

"Who are you, and why do you live in such a dreary place?" I asked the woman, stalling to give my companions the time to cast buffing spells.

"I am Centeol, and I am cursssed," she replied, her voice a rasping hiss. "The archmage, Jon Irenicussss, cursssed me for injuriesss done to hisss wife Tanova by me. I loved him... but now I hate him, asss I hate everything elssse… and I hate you. Sspidersss – kill them all!"

The spiders swarmed to the attack as we loosed missiles and spells. Dynaheir sent a Fireball into the midst of the swarm, killing the weaker spiders and injuring the others, and then they were on us and we had to draw our close-combat weapons. The next minutes were a frantic battle for our lives, in which I was bitten twice and Minsc was wounded by a sword spider, but we prevailed. Viconia cast her last Slow Poison on me, just as the venom was beginning to make me feel weak, and then healed Minsc as I was healing myself.

Centeol had perished during the fight, although I had been fully engaged with the spiders and had not seen who slew her, and the rest of her story would remain forever untold. Our quest, however, reached a successful conclusion. Behind her bulk we found a dead body, relatively untouched, resembling in face and attire the young man Tiber. It had to be Chelak. His dead hands still clutched the hilt of a two-handed sword, a beautiful weapon that appeared finer than any other I had ever seen, and my fingers itched for it. I restrained myself, lest it be in actuality a cursed weapon such as a Sword of Berserking, until Dynaheir had had a chance to use Identify. There were a couple of minor items of jewelry near the body and also a magic wand.

The wand was another Wand of Frost. The one Dynaheir already possessed was low on charges and so a second one was a useful reserve. Imoen began to talk again of giving up the profession of Thief in favor of becoming a mage, and asked if she could take the wand. I was less than enthusiastic about the change, for a beginner mage was not as much use to an adventuring party as an experienced thief, and for Imoen to utilize her thieving skills during her apprenticeship as a mage would, for some esoteric reason, offend Mystra and hinder her progression in the arcane arts. Even fighting with her bow or her short-sword would be enough to incur the disapproval of the goddess. Still, Safana was accomplished in the thieving arts and becoming even more competent as we went on, and Imoen was certainly intelligent enough to be successful as a mage. It was her decision, and if it was what she truly desired I would not stand in her way.

Dynaheir accepted Imoen as an apprentice and then demonstrated the use of an Identify spell upon the sword. It was indeed Spider's Bane, twice-enchanted, and endowed with the power to bestow upon its wielder Free Action. Whosoever bore it would be immune to any magic, such as Web or Hold Person, that would affect movement and also able to pass unhindered through spider webs. I tried it out and was impressed by its quality and balance, greatly superior to that of my existing sword, and I remembered that the enchantment on my own sword, bestowed by the binding ritual of the Sword Dance, would not have much longer to run. It lasted for only three months and we had been on the road now for almost two and a half months. I needed a new sword… but was it rightfully the property of Tiber? If he claimed it, I would offer to buy it from him. Otherwise, Minsc and I would have to agree upon some way of settling who would get the sword.

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As it transpired, almost the first thing Tiber said, after bewailing his brother's death and thanking us, was "You can keep the damn sword – it's been nothing but a curse."

"Boo says, you should have the sword," Minsc said. "You would make better use of it than me. I do not think enough when I fight, Boo says. I will try to do better, but still you should have the sword."

I thanked him, and thanked Boo, and took the sword. We escorted Tiber back to his family's farm, as he could never have made it there safely by himself carrying his brother's body, and then retraced our steps and resumed our journey. I was somewhat perplexed about what to do with my old sword, for selling it when it had been bonded to me by the ritual seemed somehow wrong, and anyway it would not work as an enchanted sword for anyone but me. It was too cumbersome to carry around as a spare but to throw it away would be disrespectful to my goddess. Nothing in my reading about the worship of Eilistraee had given me any clues as to how to deal with this situation. Eventually I decided that I would destroy the sword in a way that could be regarded as a sacrifice.

I had read that the worshippers of Eldath made offerings to her of weapons, broken so that they could never be used again, either placed in a pool or stream or tied to the branches of trees. I would do the same but combined with a ritual dance, under the moon, so that it was clear that my offering was to Eilistraee rather than to Eldath. Of course, then I had the problem of how I was going to snap a two-handed sword of good steel. Even Viconia's twice-enchanted war-hammer, wielded by Minsc, might not be enough. I thought back to books I had read about smithing and came up with the idea that if was heated red-hot, and then hit with a blast from the Wand of Frost, that should make it brittle enough to be broken by the hammer. The pool at the bottom of the waterfall that I had seen, near to the lair of Centeol, would make an ideal final resting place for the sword.

We arrived at the scene of the waterfall and reconnoitered the area. There was a ford that made for an easy crossing and on the far side we found two more phase spiders. After killing them we checked further and determined that there were no more threats. We made camp at nightfall and lit a larger than usual fire, on a stretch of rocky ground well away from the trees, where there would be no danger of the fire spreading to surrounding vegetation. At moonrise I prayed to Eilistraee, explaining my reasoning, and then heated up the blade in the fire, laid it across two rocks, and Imoen used her new Wand of Frost on it. Then Minsc smote the blade with Viconia's hammer and it snapped in two. The others settled down for the night, with Minsc and Viconia taking the first shift on guard, and I carried the shards of the sword back over the river to perform my ritual dance in private.

I laid down the broken sword in the glade I had earmarked for the ceremony, stripped naked, and danced in the moonlight. My devotions were interrupted by a stranger who appeared from out of the trees.

"Well, what a delightful sight to meet my eyes," the man said. "A beauteous, naked, maiden. A nymph, perhaps? No, if I am not mistaken, a Dark Elf. Truly I am blessed."

I stopped my dance. "You are interrupting my religious devotions," I told him. "Please go away."

"Leave such a vision of loveliness? That would be a betrayal of my calling as a bard," he said. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Eldoth Kron, a graduate of the bardic college of New Olamn, and I would be an asset to any adventuring party. Alas, my most recent venture has ended in failure, for my companions have either fled or fallen victim to the spiders that infested this area. They seem to be gone now, however, and the way is clear for me to return to Baldur's Gate. Why not accompany me, fair maid?"

I did not like his manner, nor the way he kept on approaching me as he talked, and I picked up the main part of the broken sword. The unbroken part of the blade projected some two feet from the hilt and it would still serve as a weapon against an unarmored foe. He wore only normal clothes and a cloak, with no visible armor, but a sword hung at his hip.

"Come no closer," I warned him.

"Why, anyone would think that you trust me not," he said. "You wound me."

"I will, if you come closer," I threatened.

"But you are made for love, not for fighting," he said. "Let me show you." He was uncomfortably close by now.

"My companions are not far away, and it was us who slew the spiders," I told him. "If I scream, the rest of your life will be painful and short."

"You will not scream," he said, and he cast a spell. I guessed it to be either a silencing spell or a charm spell; either way, it did not work on me. Then he tried to take me in his arms. I dodged aside and his expression turned ugly. His right hand went to the hilt of his sword and I struck before he could get it clear of the scabbard.

The broken blade was quite sufficient to slice through his throat.


	8. Chapter 7: Nothing Is Keeping You Here

**Chapter Seven: Nothing Is Keeping You Here**

When I had been attacked at Candlekeep, and had slain my attackers, the deaths had horrified me and left me trembling with the shock. I had become so inured to violence, by this time, that my initial reaction was simply one of annoyance that my ritual had been interrupted. He had forced me to kill him with the broken sword and now it was smeared with his blood. I worried that this would compromise my sacrifice, as the sword was supposed to have been made unusable, but decided that this was a requirement of Eldath, not of Eilistraee, and that my intent was the important factor.

I cleaned the sword of blood and was about to resume my dance when Minsc and Viconia arrived at a run, ready for battle, and Minsc was somewhat aggrieved to find that his aid was not needed. Once I had convinced him that the danger had passed he became acutely embarrassed by my nakedness, although I felt no embarrassment at being naked in front of him, and he retired to the camp in haste. Viconia paused to inform me that Shar had granted her new spells, more powerful than those she already possessed, and then she too departed and I was able to resume my dance.

After I had finished my ritual, and consigned the broken blade to its resting place in the river pool, I washed myself, in case any blood had splattered on me unnoticed, and then dressed and returned to the camp. We did nothing about the dead man until the morning, when we searched the body and Dynaheir cast Identify upon his sword. It was a scimitar, a twice-enchanted weapon named Rashad's Talon, and we allocated it to Safana as it was superior to her existing weapon. His cloak, too, was enchanted, making the wearer more charismatic and also possessing the power to cast a Charm spell more powerful than the basic spell cast by a mage. That must have been why he had believed that it would work upon me, despite the resistance of Elves to Charm spells, although he had not allowed for the additional magic resistance possessed by a Drow. I would have been willing for one of the others to claim it but all agreed that it should go to me.

There were a couple of spell scrolls upon the body and Imoen claimed those. There was little else interest on the corpse save for a crude map of the forest, showing the location of a wyvern lair, with some scrawled notes on the back indicating that it was inhabited by a family of two adult wyverns and their young. The letter on the corpse we had found on our first trip through this part of the forest had mentioned Eldoth, and he had referred to his venture failing because his companions had perished or fled, and I deduced that Eldoth had been another member of Coran's expedition. We disposed of his body by throwing it into our fire, and adding more wood to keep it burning, and then set off once more.

We crossed a rough wooden bridge and were met by one who, by his garb, was a druid. I was wary of him, after our experience with Seniyad and his fellows, but this druid didn't appear to be hostile.

"My name is Laskal," he introduced himself, "and I am the protector of the Cloakwood. I have a message for those who serve the Iron Throne. Would you be representatives of that organization?"

My first impulse was to claim that we were, and ask for the message in case it would give us information we could use against them, but something about his manner made me hesitate. I doubted that druids could really be allied with, or friendly towards, a group that mined iron and used bandit gangs to eliminate its competition. The message might well be a declaration of war.

"We have no connection with that evil group," I said, "other than that we are sworn enemies of the Iron Throne."

Laskal smiled. "An enemy of an enemy is a friend," he said. "My question was just a test. I am glad that you also oppose this organization. They have been a blight on these woods ever since they reopened the ancient dwarven iron mine. Well, I am glad to know you. Take this." He handed me a potion vial. "Hopefully it will aid you against the Iron Throne. The Iron Throne's fort is located to the east. Farewell."

The bottle was a Potion of Invulnerability, a useful gift, and I thanked him and stashed it away. We continued on our course and, luckily, the druid had gone out of sight when we encountered a bear and, as it charged us, we had to kill it. The incident made me think about Imoen's new vulnerability, as she was no longer permitted to wear her enchanted leather armor and had passed it on to Safana, and I reorganized our order of march to put Imoen in the center where she would be less likely to be the target of attacks.

We met several more druids as we pressed on. All were friendly once we told them we opposed the Iron Throne. One, a woman named Faldorn, volunteered to join us on our mission. I appreciated the offer but something about her manner made me uneasy. I assessed her as being a dangerous fanatic, who might well turn nasty once our aims no longer coincided, and I turned her down as politely as I could manage. Another druid, who styled himself Archdruid, gave us a sling and a few enchanted bullets; a useful gift, as Imoen was now forbidden to use her bow, and the sling was a permitted weapon for mages and would make an ideal replacement. All the druids we encountered told us of a cave in which an Iron Throne operative was training wild creatures to serve as guards, something that these druids regarded as an abomination. I wondered why they didn't do something about it themselves and suspected that they regarded it as too dangerous. To them we were expendable, the equivalent of the summoned monsters that we used in combat, but I decided to go along with it anyway.

In the event it turned out to be much less dangerous than I had feared. There was only one Iron Throne beast tamer and the creatures were only baby wyverns. We killed them in moments, without injury to ourselves, and gained a few magic arrows from the beast trainer's corpse.

Far more dangerous were the pair of adult wyverns that attacked us as we traversed a patch of open moorland between two sections of the forest. They swooped down as if to seize a pair of us in their claws and fly off with us. I shouted to the others to drop flat, where they would be far less vulnerable to that method of attack, but I didn't take my own advice. Instead I raised my two-handed sword high. One of them passed over the others, landed, and rushed toward them on the ground. The other attempted to grab me but I slashed at its extended feet and severed one of its talons. It veered off, landed awkwardly, and limped toward me.

"Minsc, take the lead on your side!" I commanded. "Hold it off with your sword. Everyone else, pelt it with missiles. I'll fight this one alone. Come to my aid once yours is dead." Then I had to devote my full attention to fighting the monstrous creature.

For once I regretted choosing to wear the enchanted mail rather than plate. The wyvern's tail was tipped with a deadly, envenomed, barb that might be able to pierce between the links. It snapped at me with fanged jaws and the tail arched over its back and struck at me. I slashed, and stabbed, and inflicted wounds on the wyvern but it continued to attack. Then I felt a searing pain in my chest. The wyvern had struck me and, just as I had feared, the stinger had pierced through the mail. I struck at the tail as it withdrew, hoping to cut off the poison sting, but although I did carve a gash in the tail, I did not manage to sever it completely. The beast fought on, and so did I.

It became harder for me to breathe, and a numbness spread through me, although the pain remained. I tried to cast Slow Poison but the wyvern struck again, forcing me to parry, and the pain flared up and broke my concentration. The spell failed. My vision began to blur. It seemed that my death was imminent. Was my interpretation of Eilistraee's teachings truly valid, and would I be accepted into her realm in the afterlife? What would happen to Viconia without me to guide her? Would she continue on her path to becoming a non-evil Darkcloak, or would she relapse into following the harsher side of Shar's teachings? Would the group stay together without me? I felt that I had much yet to do, and I did not want to die, but I could not even get a moment's respite to grab for a potion.

Then arrows and bullets struck the wyvern, and Viconia and Dynaheir were right behind me, and I felt the pain diminish and my strength return as two spells were cast upon me simultaneously. Minsc charged the wyvern, bellowing "Go for the eyes, Boo!", and struck it a mighty blow with his sword. It staggered, sagged, and a final blow from my sword dropped it unmoving to the ground.

"_Jabbress!_" Viconia cried. "I feared you were dying."

"I came close," I admitted.

"You shouldn't have taken it on by yourself, you bufflehead," Imoen scolded me.

"It worked," I said. "It was the most efficient way of dealing with two dangerous and highly mobile opponents."

"You need better armor," Minsc advised, for once speaking for himself rather than passing on a message from Boo.

"I like the lightness of this," I said, "and it serves perfectly well in most cases. I'd change it if we found more ankheg armor, or killed one of the beasts and had Thunderhammer make a set out of it, but otherwise I'll stick to what I have."

"Now we have two wyvern heads," Safana said, rubbing her hands together. "Back to Beregost for the reward?"

"Not yet," I said. "We can't be far from the lair shown on the map. If these were the parent wyverns there might be young in the lair, that will either starve or else run loose and pose a peril in themselves, and we might as well resolve that before we go back to Beregost."

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The ones we had slain were not the parents. The wyverns' cave held two more adults and three young. It was not such a difficult fight, however, as they could not fly in the confines of the cave, and Dynaheir was able to hit them with a Fireball before they could close with us. Already injured, and pelted with arrows and sling bullets before they could reach us with fangs and stings, they fell quickly. We took the heads of the adults, and a set of plate mail from the body of a previous adventurer who had either perished in the attempt to slay them or had been snatched and carried back to the cave as food for the young, and then did a sweep of the vicinity. There were more immature wyverns roaming the area but they didn't pose us much of a threat. Then, laden with as much loot as we could comfortably carry, we set off for Beregost.

High Priest Ormlyr paid us the bounty but only for one wyvern head. That didn't seem right to me but I didn't argue. We left the agreed two hundred and fifty Lions with him for Coran and went to Feldepost's Inn to see if he would buy the other wyvern heads. He did, although only for five hundred each, but with that, and the proceeds of our other loot, we able to afford to have all our wands charged up to full capacity. We went to return the cloak we had found to the dwarf who owned it and, to my surprise and Safana's delight, he told us to keep it. He gave us some gold and told us that the story of how he'd had his cloak stolen in Cloakwood was good for free drinks on a regular basis; getting the cloak back would spoil the story. My companions, other than Minsc, insisted on a night of luxury before we set off again; in truth I had no objections and, as far as I knew, my goddess had nothing against occasional indulgence.

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Back to the Cloakwood, then, and after a hard trek through the forest at last we came to our goal. Or at least to what I presumed must be our goal; it was a small fortress, although of wood rather than stone, standing on an island in a lake that formed a natural moat. A wooden palisade ran around the edge of the island, with a couple of buildings within, and a wooden bridge connected the island with the land around it. Not how I would have visualized a mine, but it was in the right place, and even if it wasn't the mine that we sought I was fairly sure it was a strongpoint for the Iron Throne. There were patrols of armored guards in the woods, and they challenged us in the name of the Throne; we killed them all.

With the area secured I led the way over the bridge. A couple more guards rushed to meet us, and died. Inside the palisade was a courtyard with a welcoming committee; a pair of mages, a cleric, and a fighter in plate mail. They might have posed a more formidable threat than the usual guards but we fought them with a new tactic. Dynaheir dropped a Web on them, and Imoen used a wand to cast Fireball, and then, as they stood trapped and helpless, I used the power of Spider's Bane to stride unhindered through the entangling strands and slay them. It was unfair, dishonorable perhaps, but necessary. I killed them but felt defiled as I did it.

They were well equipped indeed and, had we given them a fair chance, they might have prevailed against us. The mages had spell scrolls, useful for both Dynaheir and Imoen, and enchanted mage robes. The cleric wore non-magical chain-mail but his morning-star was enchanted and, although inferior to Viconia's hammer and of no immediate use, would sell for a good price. The fighter wore Boots of Speed, that would have made him as fast as if he had been Hasted, but without the debilitating side-effects that followed use of the spell. His armor was Fallorain's Plate, a suit that had once belonged to a famed cavalry captain, enchanted to be both lighter and stronger than normal plate mail and with a size-changing enchantment so that it would fit anyone without needing alterations. It would protect me better than my chain-mail and was scarcely heavier. Neither Minsc nor Viconia needed it and so I donned it straight away.

The Boots of Speed posed more of a problem, because the enchantment on the sword Spider's Bane negated the power of the boots. If I carried the sword, and wore the boots, I would still move at only normal speed. If Minsc wore the boots he could charge into combat and hit opponents before they could react; the problem was that Minsc had little tactical sense, and would charge even if it was not the right thing to do, and would not take advantage of the ability to beat a rapid retreat. Also, Minsc was far better with his bow than I was with my crossbow, and often it was better for him to hang back whilst I took the fight to close quarters. Eventually we decided that I would take the boots but we would trade swords. Minsc would wield Spider's Bane and gain the immunity to webs, Hold spells, and similar enchantments. My magic resistance gave me a decent chance of escaping the effect of such spells, anyway, and so I would take his old sword and rush ahead if it was appropriate for the situation.

The outermost building was a stable, holding four horses, presumably those of the four we had just slain. The animals were of little use to us, as Dynaheir was the only one who knew how to ride, although perhaps they might serve as pack horses if we returned heavily laden. The next building was a guard bunkhouse, with a couple of guards inside, and they reacted to our intrusion by attacking us. By this time, equipped as we were and with altogether too much experience of combat, the common run of guards and mercenaries stood no chance against us. We killed them, looted the lockers that stood at the foot of each bed, and continued on. A palisaded walkway led to another building and this one proved to hold an elevator shaft going down into the mine.

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The mine workings resembled those I had seen near Nashkel. Gloomy tunnels, hot and dank, with half-naked miners toiling with picks and shovels to extract ore and load it onto wagons. These miners, however, were slaves rather than paid workers. There were armed guards every few yards, to keep the miners working, and I couldn't see how this was more efficient than paying the miners a decent wage would have been. The guards must have been paid, probably more than free miners would have been, and they proved to be no use at all against a serious external threat; namely us. Even Safana, who much preferred to avoid fair fights and to stab her opponents in the back, was able to slay one unassisted without much trouble. One of them challenged us, claiming that he was a 'mean son of a bitch' and would give us 'a world of hurt'. I killed him with a single blow before he could even raise his sword to parry.

One of the slave miners told us of a plug that held back the waters of an underground river, presumably one that fed the lake above. Davaeorn, whose name had appeared on letters that we had found at the bandit camp, apparently held a key that would unlock the plug and flood the mine. This didn't make a lot of sense to me, as surely it would have been safer to seal off the river completely, but perhaps the Iron Throne wanted to be able to destroy the mine, and the evidence of their use of slaves, if the authorities in Baldur's Gate started to investigate. The miner wanted us to flood the place, once we had slain the guards and allowed the slaves to escape, and I debated the pros and cons. On one hand it seemed a shame to destroy a valuable resource, but on the other it would strike a blow against the Iron Throne, and with the contamination of the ore from Nashkel no longer a factor this mine wasn't essential to Baldur's Gate. And the friendly druids had wanted it shut down. I agreed to the miner's plan and we went around the top level systematically killing all the guards and telling the slaves to depart.

Some of the slaves had been prisoners for so long that they seemed to have forgotten the concept of freedom. They continued working even after the guards were dead and they were told they could leave. Eventually we found the plug itself, a massive steel door, and a slave near it told us that we needed to find two other prisoners who were held in cells in a level lower down; one was a dwarf named Yeslick, who was a descendant of the dwarven clan who had founded the mine, and it was he who had installed the plug and supervised the draining of the flooded mine for the Iron Throne, and the other, a man named Rill, had a lot of influence with the other slaves and would be able to get those who seemed unable to think for themselves to flee the mine. We killed the last of the guards on the upper level and descended deeper into the mine.

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The next level down was used for living quarters and prison cells, rather than being actively worked for ore, and was staffed by a large contingent of guards of better quality than the slave overseers above. There was a mage, and some Black Talon elite archers, as well as swordsmen and archers who appeared to have been recruited from the bandits. A couple of simultaneous Fireballs, one cast as a spell by Dynaheir and the other by Imoen using a wand, took out most of them and Minsc and I dealt with the survivors.

We found Yeslick and Rill in prison cells, together with other recalcitrant slaves, and freed them. Yeslick told us how he had been manipulated by the Iron Throne into getting the derelict mine back into working order and then imprisoned, as soon as the task was complete, when he found out that they were going to run the mine with slave labor and objected. I guessed that they'd wanted to have his expertise at hand, in case problems developed, and that was why they hadn't simply killed him outright. Rill told me that he had overheard mentions of the Iron Throne placing a price on the head of one T'rissae, confirming what I already suspected, and agreed to lead the slaves out to safety. He asked for money to bribe the commander of the guard to look the other way, until I told him that the commander of the guard wouldn't need to be bribed because he was dead, and then asked for funds to provide the slaves with necessities once they were out. I wasn't sure if he was genuine, or trying to profit from the situation, but I gave him five hundred Lions anyway. Some of the other slave prisoners appeared to have been broken by harsh treatment, and didn't understand that they were being freed, but Rill and Yeslick rounded them up and got them moving. We pressed on to the next level down.

It held officers' living quarters, hobgoblin barracks, an armory, a smelter, and a temple. The denizens were human guards, hobgoblins, a human woman mage, and an ogre mage torturer. We went through with fire and the sword and killed everyone. There was a lot of loot to be found, mainly gold and gems, and a couple of pieces of minor enchanted armor. We no longer bothered to take unenchanted armor or weapons because by now we had sold so much in Beregost and Nashkel that we had 'flooded the market', as I believe it is called, and the price we received had dropped to where it was no longer worthwhile. Profit wasn't my motivation for being here, anyway, and most of my colleagues felt the same way; perhaps not Safana, but there were enough valuables to keep her satisfied.

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The lowest layer was where Davaeorn resided. A warrior, presumably his bodyguard, met us at the entrance. He was more skillful than the others we had faced, and clad in plate mail, but his sword was not enchanted and he lasted only seconds against me and Minsc together. The passage leading to Davaeorn's chambers was heavily trapped, delaying us for a while as Safana jammed pressure plates and disarmed tripwires, and that gave Davaeorn the time to prepare for battle. He was a mage, and cast several defensive spells, then attacked.

Alas for him, Dynaheir recognized the spells he was casting, and advised us on countermeasures. His Protection From Normal Missiles was merely the signal for us to load with enchanted arrows and sling bullets, we avoided his Lightning Bolt, and his use of Dimension Door to move rapidly around the area only postponed the inevitable. On his third jaunt he materialized only feet from me, already wounded by arrows, and with the aid of the Boots of Speed I was on him before he could escape. He unleashed some kind of fiery blast, which was ineffective due to the protective ring and helm that I wore, and the others were out of range. It would have been useful to take him alive but I did not know what other spells he might have in his repertoire. I took the safest course and thrust my sword through his chest.

His equipment was a treasure trove. An Archmage's robe, unfortunately imbued with enchantments aligned to Evil that made it unwearable by Imoen, but which would sell for a small fortune. Bracers of Defense offering protection from weapons superior to that from wearing studded leather armor, which Imoen immediately donned. Several scrolls of spells. Letters from 'Rieltar', of the Iron Throne, with useful information about their plans. And the key for the plug that could flood the mine.

Safana took the lead as we searched the chambers, in case of more traps, and in a side room she came upon a young man in mage's garb. Presumably he was an apprentice to Davaeorn, and I believe he may have been willing to surrender, but Safana took no chances and attacked him before I had a chance to tell her to refrain. He fought back, casting a Horror spell that overcame my magic resistance and briefly caused me to flee in panic, also affecting Imoen, but Viconia countered the spell and Safana and Minsc slew the apprentice mage. There was nothing of interest on his corpse but bookcases in his room held more spell scrolls. Another side room was guarded by a carnivorous jelly creature, which was able to poison me before it was slain, although Viconia cured me before I could take much harm. Chests in that room held valuable jewels and more spell scrolls. Another chest, in Davaeorn's personal chamber, gave us yet more spell scrolls and a Wand of Fear. There was nothing else of interest save for Davaeorn's personal elevator to the upper levels.

We checked that all the slave miners had left and then the others made their way to the surface. I remained behind, with the key, and as soon as they sent the elevator cage back down I opened the floodgates. The water began to rush in and I ran for my life.

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We had to escort the freed slaves to the Friendly Arm Inn. If we'd just left them to wander by themselves, I doubt if most of them would have made it. Some of them had armed themselves from the bodies of the guards we had slain but even so they couldn't have coped with the perils of the wilderness. During the journey we were twice attacked by wyverns, and one of the miners was slain, but we slew the monsters with little injury to ourselves. It took several days, at the necessary slow pace, and we had to make frequent stops so that the miners could rest. During one of those halts I had another ominous dream.

I dreamed of blood, a tidal wave of blood sweeping across everything, carrying me with it. When I awoke I found that I had, once more, been granted a Slow Poison spell. Again I was perplexed and worried; surely only Eilistraee could bestow such powers upon me, but why would a gift from the kindly goddess be heralded by such nightmarish visions? I had no answer.

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The Friendly Arm Inn was somewhat overwhelmed by the influx of people needing food and shelter. I gave Bentley five hundred Lions, to pay for whatever they needed, and it scarcely put a dent in our funds. I gave him the horses we had acquired, too, as we had no way of looking after them and they were of little use to us. In return he let us stay for free, although all of us except Minsc had to cram into a single room because of the overcrowding, and Minsc had to share with several ex-miners. We managed to sell off some of our loot but kept the most valuable gems and jewelry, as they were easier to carry than their equivalent in gold coin, and Bentley wasn't interested in purchasing wyvern heads.

To Beregost, to sell the rest, and to claim the bounties on a few more bandit scalps from Officer Vai. We showed her the documents revealing the plans of the Iron Throne but she said that she doubted she'd be able to make a legal case against them. They simply had too much wealth and influence to be vulnerable. And Feldepost would only offer two hundred and fifty apiece for the wyvern heads. Off to see Thalantyr the mage at High Hedge, then, where he paid us five hundred each, sold us some spells for our two mages, and recharged our wands.

The next logical step would have been to head for the city of Baldur's Gate but I hesitated. Officer Vai's statement about the influence held by the Iron Throne was discouraging. In the city we'd be operating in an unfamiliar environment and on their home ground. I decided we should leave the area, temporarily, hopefully putting their bounty hunters off our track. I had heard of a place called Durlag's Tower, a ruined castle said to contain a fortune in wealth guarded by deadly monsters and cunning traps, and it seemed like a suitable place to gain further experience in combat and to bolster our war chest. How dangerous could it be?

Very.


	9. Chapter 8: Lie Down In Darkness

**Chapter Eight: Lie Down In Darkness**

Durlag's Tower was a sinister sight, standing forbidding amidst a barren rocky wasteland, but we were not to be deterred by appearances. Near the castle we met a merchant, who had his stall there specifically to sell things to adventurers trying their luck, and he voiced dire warnings about the perils of the tower and the labyrinth within. Undaunted, we continued on, and faced peril even before reaching our destination.

Two Doom Guards confronted us, suits of armor animated by necromantic magic, armed with flaming swords. My reading had indicated that they were immune to missiles, and most spells, and had to be battered and hacked apart to put them down. I ordered the lighter armored members of our party to stay back and went forward accompanied only by Minsc and Viconia. We maneuvered so that we could take the constructs on one at a time, the three of us laying into a single opponent with all our might, yet even so we barely prevailed. By the time the second one collapsed into a pile of armor fragments Minsc and I were both so badly injured that it took all of Viconia's healing spells to restore us.

The outer walls were manned, if I can use that term, by another Doom Guard, a very similar Battle Horror, and a legion of skeletons. I did not want to leave them unfought, lest we entered the keep, encountered something too strong for us, and were attacked by the wall guardians as we sought to flee. We destroyed them but were badly hurt in the process, so much so that we had to retreat back to the area where the merchant had his stall, and rest and regain spells before we could continue.

Once inside the keep I decided that we should ascend to the top first and work our way down. There were horrors on every level. On the top floor we fought ghasts and then a succubus. Her demonic powers of life draining did not work on me, due to the training I had received from the old Undead Hunter, but she Charmed Minsc and Safana and set them against the rest of us. I had to order the others to hide whilst I led my charmed friends a merry dance, using my magical speed to stay out of their reach, until the Charms wore off and we were able to attack and slay the succubus. We took a lock of her hair, as its resemblance to my lock of nymph's hair made me think that it might be useful, and also the Cloak of Protection that had been her only garment.

The next floor down held nothing as threatening. A rival adventurer, a thief who was also engaged in looting the tower, complained that we were on his patch. I gave him the succubus hair, explaining honestly that I had no idea if it was valuable or not, and a pouch of gold. In exchange he gave us a potion of Cloud Giant Strength, as it could not be used by thieves, and we parted amicably. A ghostly figure seemed to believe that I was Durlag, despite the tower's founder being described as a dwarf in all the records I had seen, and attacked us when I corrected him. He met his final death without inflicting any harm on us.

More dangerous was a magical trap protecting a tome that lay on an altar. Safana's attempt to disarm it backfired and it cast a Charm spell upon her, like that of the succubus, setting her against us. We ran away and hid, until it wore off, and then took the book. It was valuable indeed, a Tome of Understanding, endowing the reader with increased wisdom, and hence granting a cleric or druid additional spells. It went to Viconia, of course, and she studied it at once.

"Shar looks upon us with favor," she said. "This place is perilous, indeed, but the benefits make it worthwhile. You were right to bring us here, _Jabbress_."

What happened next might have caused her to reconsider. We explored the floor below, heavily trapped and crawling with ghasts, and then went out through a door onto a balcony on the castle exterior – and found ourselves face to face with a basilisk. Luckily I was in the front, and so it was me that it targeted with its petrifying gaze, and my magic resistance saved me. Since our encounter with the basilisks east of Beregost Dynaheir had made a point of always keeping a Protection From Petrification spell memorized. She cast it on me, and Viconia summoned a Skeleton Warrior to take the lead, and we exercised extreme caution as we ascended a set of stairs that led to the roof of the keep.

Our precautions turned out to be wise, for there were three more basilisks up there. We killed all three, of course, and to Viconia's relief did not find any petrified victims. We did find a scimitar, hidden in what appeared to be some sort of ventilator stack, together with some Acid Arrows and a valuable necklace. The scimitar was another Rashad's Talon, identical to the one Safana carried, but it was superfluous to our needs as Safana had never learnt to dual-wield and had no interest in starting now. At least it would be worth a large sum if we sold it; I wondered if Jaheira might wish to buy it, for scimitars were one of the traditional weapons of druids, although I had not seen her with one. If we met her again, before we sold it elsewhere, I would offer it to her.

Eventually we had been through all the levels of the keep that were above ground and were ready to descend into the underground areas. They were… nightmarish, seemingly the product of an insane mind.

We met a wounded adventurer who told us that the place was designed, not to protect treasure, but to lure adventurers in and kill them unless they understood the mind of Durlag. He could well have been right.

There were traps everywhere, some designed to kill outright, others intended to confuse so that the victims would blunder into other traps or be easy prey for monsters. There were a lot of monsters, many deadlier than any we had fought before. There were doppelgangers, those strange monsters that could take the shape of people and impersonate them almost perfectly, very dangerous in normal combat but made far more deadly because they could approach in the guise of friends. After our second encounter with them I made a rule that no-one was ever to be out of sight of the rest of the group. No-one objected.

We learnt to recognize the proximity of traps by the corpses on the ground.

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I learnt other things during our exploration of the death trap that was Durlag's Tower. That I had a gift for tactics. That very little can withstand alternating blasts from a Wand of Fireballs and a Wand of Frost. That Durlag had been _natha vith'ez nirgon_. And that, in the words of a proverb of one of the Uthgardt barbarian tribes, _Friends are good on the day of battle_. We were more than a team, we were a band of sisters – and one brother, Minsc – who moved and fought almost as one. Greater than the sum of our parts. We faced foes who would have slain me in a heartbeat a mere three months before and we overcame them; not easily, but we prevailed.

We spent six days in that accursed place. It was exhausting, painful, often terrifying, and yet sometimes exhilarating. And profitable. We gained armor, weapons, and magic items aplenty. For Viconia, a thrice-enchanted sling and a twice-enchanted shield bearing a permanent lightness charm. For our two mages more wands, a necklace of Fireballs, a Cloak of Protection, and multiple scrolls. For Minsc, a set of Dwarven plate mail enchanted so that it gave better protection than his suit of full plate yet was less than a third of the weight. And for me… a sword.

A weapon of legend, the World's Edge, once wielded by a succession of barbarian chieftains, with a thrice-enchanted blade of black steel. Now I had a weapon even more powerful than Spider's Bane and one that did not conflict with my Boots of Speed. I put it to good use against the vile creatures that infested the lower levels.

Once of those creatures had been human once, a noble warrior named Grael, who had been transformed into an undead monstrosity by the gaze weapon of the demon Aec'Letec. He warned us of the perilous nature of that fiend and then elected to die fighting us rather than continue his cursed existence. I said prayers over his body, asking that he find peace in the afterlife, and – somewhat to my surprise – Viconia joined me, although of course her prayer was to Shar.

Eventually we had cleansed the subterranean levels of the tower and solved all the puzzles that Durlag had created to slow the progress of anyone penetrating the complex. It seemed that the place was a monument to Durlag's feelings of guilt. We spoke to the ghosts of Durlag, and his wife Islanne, and they departed to their long-delayed afterlife. There was only one more challenge to complete.

A survivor of a previous adventuring party told us that the very lowest level was inhabited by a Demon Knight, a fearsome and cunning beast, who had destroyed her group by using a Mirror of Opposition to create evil duplicates of them. It was apparently a fearsome combatant, resistant to spells, immune to non-magical weapons and skilled in the use of magic. We armed ourselves with our best enchanted missiles, used every protective spell we had, and as soon as we entered its lair summoned monsters to take the brunt of its initial attacks.

We slew it in less than a minute. It never had a chance to use the Mirror of Opposition on us and, as soon as it was dead, I smashed the Mirror to ensure it could not be used by any other evil being in the future. The Demon Knight's corpse gave us a large shield with a basic enchantment, saleable but otherwise of no use to us, an odd dagger with an enchantment that Dynaheir and Imoen could not determine, and a Helm of Opposite Alignment. That helm would twist the morals of anyone who wore it so that an evil person who wore it would become good and a good person would become evil. I regarded it as abhorrent, as it was a violation of the very heart of an individual, and I would never use it even on someone irredeemably evil. Its potential for misuse in the hands of someone with evil intent was dire. Multiple blows from enchanted hammers and maces shattered it and ended the threat it posed.

A young adventurer named Dalton, another survivor of that previous adventuring party, was hiding in a recess at the side of the demon's chamber. He had slain the duplicate of him summoned by the mirror but the experience had left him too traumatized to risk evading the Demon Knight and escaping. We assured him that he was safe and, as he was in no fit state to travel the wilderness alone, offered to escort him back to his home in the small port of Ulgoth's Beard.

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Nothing in this world is ever simple. No sooner had we arrived in Ulgoth's Beard than we were ambushed. A man in the robes of a mage accosted us and demanded that we give him the dagger we retrieved from Durlag's Tower. He referred to it as 'Soultaker', which sounded ominous, and I did something foolish. I took out the dagger, looked at it, and asked why he wanted it.

"That dagger holds the focus of all our prayers," he said. "Our god may finally return. I must have it!"

A god who could be brought back by way of a dagger, probably through a sacrifice, didn't sound like any good deity with which I was familiar. It would have to be either one of those slain in the Time of Troubles, such as Bhaal or Bane, or a demon masquerading as a god. The best-case scenario would be if he meant Zinzerena, or Leira, or perhaps Waukeen who had disappeared rather than being slain. I ruled out Zinzerena immediately; she had been a Drow goddess, with no human worshippers as far as I was aware, and she had been slain by Lolth. Leira, former goddess of illusion, and Waukeen, goddess of wealth, wouldn't have any connection to a dagger called 'Soultaker'. The god they wanted to bring back was overwhelmingly likely to be one of the really, really, bad ones.

"I think not," I said.

"Then I will take it," the presumed mage snarled. He made an arcane gesture and the dagger was ripped from my hand, shooting across to his hand too quickly for me to interfere, and simultaneously we were attacked from all sides.

Armored men rushed out from behind buildings. Archers came out and loosed at us. Assassins appeared behind us as they attacked and thus disrupted the invisibility they had used to get into position. A sword glanced off Viconia's ankheg armor. Minsc's new Dwarven armor saved him from another stab. Imoen screamed and collapsed as a short-sword sank into her back.

"_Abbil!_" Viconia screeched. A glow of magic illuminated her as she cast Draw Upon Holy Might on herself and then grabbed her mace. She went for the assassin who had stabbed Imoen and struck him so hard that his skull shattered. Even before he had hit the ground she was bending over Imoen and casting her most powerful healing spell.

The dagger-stealing mage vanished in a swirl of magic, Dimension Door or something similar, and I was set upon by two plate-mail clad warriors wielding sword and shield. They were strong and skillful, more so than any humans I had faced before save for Taurgosz Khosann, and pressed me hard. Others went for Minsc, and a leather-clad assassin dueled with Safana, and then Dynaheir summoned forth a half-dozen monsters from her wand to our aid. That turned the tide. One of my assailants turned aside to fight an ogre who threatened him. In so doing he exposed himself to me, and I delivered a rapid cut to the back of his legs and was back on guard before my other opponent could take advantage. The ogre finished off the wounded man and, now that I faced only one man, I slew my remaining opponent quickly. In moments all our attackers were down, Imoen was back on her feet, and none of the rest of us had been seriously hurt.

Young Dalton had fought against the attackers and, although he had slain none, he had served to keep one occupied who might otherwise have tipped the odds against one of our group. I thanked him, and delivered him safely to his mother's house, and then we stripped the bodies of those who had ambushed us.

All the armored men carried Potions of Heroism, no doubt partly responsible for the skill they had shown, one had an enchanted longsword, and their plate-mail would be saleable. The archers' quivers held some envenomed arrows. We took everything and headed for the town's inn, which Dalton had told us also functioned as a shop buying and selling adventurers' gear.

A dwarf, named Hurgan Stoneblade, approached us in the inn and told us the reason why we had been attacked. The Soultaker dagger had been used to slay a tana'ri demon named Aec'Letec, the same one that had turned the adventurer Grael into an undead monster, and the essence of Aec'Letec had been trapped in the dagger. A cult of demon worshippers sought to release the demon into the world and, Hurgan told me, they needed to be stopped.

I refrained from telling him that he was stating the obvious and agreed to do it. In case we were not in time to prevent them from raising the demon I bought every Potion of Mirrored Eyes in the shop, as a precaution against its gaze weapon, and adding them to those we already had there were enough for one each. We bought a few other things we thought might be useful and then I shamed Hurgan, who had intended to simply wish us luck and leave us to it, into coming with us.

The cult had guards outside their building. We used summoned monsters to keep them at a distance and killed them all. Inside the house there were more guards, quite a few of them including mages, but two simultaneous Fireballs thinned their numbers and summoned monsters held them back as we bombarded them with arrows, bolts, and bullets until all were dead. There was no sign of any demon-summoning ritual in progress but there was a trapdoor down to a basement. I was fairly sure that would be where it happened and, as retreat from a basement might not be easy to accomplish quickly, I made sure everyone was well prepared before we entered.

Potions of Heroism, Giant Strength, Invulnerability, Speed, and Mirrored Eyes were downed and our spell-casters added every warding and combat-enhancing spell they had. I passed out flasks of Oil of Fiery Burning to everyone who couldn't cast Fireball, we opened the trapdoor, and went down.

The basement was a large hall, with a floor of stone flags, on which a pentagram in a circle had been etched. Robed figures around the edges of the room were chanting and, even as we entered, a demonic shape appeared in the center of the pentagram. My hope that it would be confined to the summoning circle proved false as it walked out without even pausing.

We hit the cult members with Fireballs and hurled fiery flasks and almost all of them perished in the instant inferno. The lighter-armed members of our party finished off the cult survivors as I, quickly joined by Minsc, Viconia, and Hurgan, attacked the demon. Dynaheir summoned more monsters, which didn't achieve much against the powerful demon, but at least they kept it distracted and gave us more chances to strike with our enchanted weapons. World's Edge, Spider's Bane, and Viconia's mace Krotan's Skullcrusher battered and sliced the demon and, in a surprisingly short time, the beast collapsed and melted into a pool of ichor. It was almost an anticlimax but I felt only relief.

We gathered up everything saleable and left. There was no sign of the Soultaker dagger. I assumed that it had been consumed as part of the ritual and paid it no further heed. I had no way of knowing that I was wrong.

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The Giant Strength potions would be in effect for quite a while longer and so, when a wizard named Shandalar approached us and requested that we carry out a task for him, I thought that it would be a shame not to make full use of our temporary extra power. I agreed, providing that the task would not take long, and seconds later we found that we had been teleported to a bleak and frozen island somewhere far away. We would not be able to return until we found Shandalar's missing cloak.

Hurgan had not been transported with us. Presumably Shandalar felt that conscripting a fellow resident of Ulgoth's Beard into service would not go down well in the town. It was for the best, though, as his unfamiliarity with our methods of fighting might have made him more of a liability than an asset. He had been useful as an extra blade against the demon but that had been a straight slugging match. The labyrinth beneath the island posed more complex problems.

It seemed that this place was a trap for mages. Almost every chamber within the maze contained one or more wizards and most of them seemed to have been driven mad by their imprisonment. All of them wanted the wardstone Shandalar had given us, which would activate a portal back to Ulgoth's Beard once we had found the cloak, and all wanted to take it by force rather than requesting to share it with us. The tactics we had developed, using summoned monsters as our first line of attack and defense, served us well yet again. One group of three mages cast Confusion, which could have had catastrophic results if it had affected some members of our party, but it hit only the summoned monsters and we simply retreated and let the monsters attack each other and the mages indiscriminately. One of the mages used Dimension Door to close with us and found, in the rest of his short life, that this had been a very bad idea. We finished off the other two once the monsters had stopped rampaging at random.

Another mage had the power to summon and control ankhegs. Again, their attacks were wasted on our summons and we came out of the fight unhurt and with four valuable ankheg shells. Three more mages attacked us, one by one, and died. The last was wearing Shandalar's cloak and, as soon as we took it, we were transported back to Ulgoth's Beard.

Shandalar took the cloak and teleported away without even rewarding us. I wasn't impressed; Imoen, Viconia, and Safana expressed their feelings about his ingratitude in eloquent and vitriolic terms. Still, our trip had been profitable; we had acquired the ankheg shells, four Winter Wolf pelts, a couple of wands and several spell scrolls. One of the scrolls was Stoneskin, a very useful addition to a mage's repertoire, and one we had not possessed.

We made another trip south to sell our pelts and shells. In Beregost Taerom Fuiruim offered to use one of the ankheg shells to make us a suit of armor, at a cost of four thousand Lions, and I was tempted to accept but decided against it. Instead we sold him our shells for five hundred each. We continued down to Nashkel, where the storekeeper was paying five hundred for winter wolf pelts, and returned by way of High Hedge to get our wands recharged. Even after that we were left with almost ninety thousand Lions, not counting quite a sum in jewelry; more than any of us, even Safana, had ever seen in our lives.

And then, at long last, we headed for the city of Baldur's Gate.

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**Glossary of Drow Phrases**

• _natha vith'ez nirgon_ = a fucking madman

• _Jabbress_ = Female leader


	10. Chapter 9: Baldur's Gate Skyline

**Chapter Nine: Baldur's Gate Skyline**

We had to cross a bridge that led to the city gates. The bridge was guarded and a toll imposed. The guard halted us and said that his superior wished to speak to us. After we had stood around for half an hour, and were growing bored, Officer Scar of the Flaming Fist arrived.

He said he had a job for us. He wanted us to investigate the Seven Suns trading coster because its leaders were making ludicrous decisions that were threatening the coster's survival and thus disturbing the economy of the entire city. I didn't see how we qualified, as our main skills were in killing things, but I supposed that Safana was sneaky, Imoen had a razor-sharp mind, and the rest of us could defend against anyone who took violent exception to being investigated. Anyway, he was offering to pay us well.

I agreed, but told him about our discovery of the Iron Throne's activities. He promised to look into it, although I had a feeling that he'd get nowhere because of the Iron Throne's wealth and influence. We would have to take care of it ourselves.

Elminster greeted us as we passed through the gate. He gave me vague and useless warnings, implied that there was something wrong with my lineage, and refused to be specific. The only useful thing he told us was that Scar, and his superior Duke Eltan, were good people and could be trusted. I resisted the impulse to seize him and shake him until he told me more.

The next person to accost us was a thief who told us that his boss, the chief of the Thieves' Guild, had a proposition for us. We would be paid fifty Lions merely for listening to the offer. I wasn't thrilled at the idea of cooperating with the Thieves' Guild but refusing even to speak to them could make them enemies, and that would make it very hard for Safana to operate in the city. I agreed, and was told a password that would grant us access to the nondescript houses which were the Guild's headquarters.

Once inside we spoke to the Guildmaster, Alatos Thuibuld, who told us he wanted us to steal the schematics and spell components for the construction of a Halruaan skyship. I was about to refuse when he revealed that the theft was to be from Shandalar. Safana was almost quivering with eagerness and so I agreed. A guild lieutenant, Narlen Darkwalk, separately approached Safana and invited her to participate in a couple of burglaries. Again, I was unenthusiastic, but the Thieves' Guild might make useful allies against the Iron Throne, and ingratiating ourselves with them made some sense. I gave Safana permission to participate as long as no-one was hurt in the course of the robberies.

Obtaining the skyship plans from Shandalar's family home was surprisingly easy. I distracted the residents by claiming that I had come to protest about the wizard neglecting to give me a reward for retrieving his cloak from a perilous island. I had a legitimate issue on that score and so I did not regard it as lying. Anyway, Eilistraee was by no means as strict about sticking to the truth as were the gods of the human pantheons who governed true paladins. Meanwhile Safana, invisible with the aid of a potion and her Cloak of Non-Detection, slipped through the house and removed the items. The job was done, with no-one hurt, and one of Shandalar's daughters even gave me a couple of spell scrolls to shut me up and get me to go away.

It had all gone so smoothly that I decided Safana should do the other two burglaries right away, without returning to the Thieves' Guild first, and we traveled to the part of the city where she was to meet Narlen. There would be no part for the rest of us to play in Safana's venture and so I led the party into the Blushing Mermaid tavern to kill time until she was finished.

I should have remembered that nothing in my life was simple. No sooner had we walked in the door than we were approached by yet another assassin out for my blood. This one was unusual only in that he was an ogre, a huge hulk of a creature, not what I would have expected to meet in the city. He attacked, and managed to bruise me painfully, but against the six of us he didn't last long. Safana went off on her missions and returned, successful, a couple of hours later. With that completed we went back to the Thieves' Guild to hand over the skyship components and receive our reward.

A reward that was intended to be death. The Guild's client for the robbery, a mage named Resar, declared that we were loose tongues that needed to be silenced. It looked as if a nasty fight was about to break out but, before Resar could cast any spells, Safana's new friend Narlen stabbed him in the back. Fatally. The Guildmaster demanded an explanation for this action, to which Narlen replied that we had proved our worth to the Guild and should be treated as if we were full members. The Guildmaster agreed, gave us Resar's possessions in lieu of a financial reward, and declared that we were free to make use of the Guild facilities as we wished.

There was an immediate pay-off, for a thief named Husam gave us some information about the leadership of the Iron Throne and told us where to find their headquarters. I had thought that the Guild would know something about a prosperous organization in their city and I was correct. I wondered if Ender Sai was a Guild member, and guessed that it was likely, but I didn't enquire about him just in case he was a freelance and by asking I drew unwanted Guild attention upon him. It was well after dark by this time, and I thought we should find an inn for the night, but first we visited the Guild's storekeeper – or, perhaps more accurately, their fence. She didn't have much of interest to us, as we were already so well equipped, and so we bought only some magical sling bullets to top up our supply. Safana, however, indulged her light fingers and pilfered a magical tome.

I was somewhat annoyed when I found out, as the theft could have jeopardized our relationship with the Guild, but Safana was incorrigible and there was little point in scolding her. The book was a Manual of Quickness of Action, which would grant the reader a permanent increase to her dexterity and agility, and once we were ensconced for the night at the Elfsong Tavern we discussed who should use the book. It would be of little use to Dynaheir, who had the Gauntlets of Dexterity, and I had a feeling that myself and Viconia were already so dexterous that I doubted that it would make a noticeable difference to us, but any of the others could benefit. I suggested that we should draw straws, with Safana getting two goes as she was the one who had stolen it, and everyone was happy with that idea. The winner was Minsc. He struggled to read it, and eventually had to give up, and we drew again. This time I won. As I had suspected, I couldn't really tell the difference; the Law of Diminishing Returns was in effect, it would seem. At least it might help if I was afflicted by a venom or curse that would otherwise have hampered me.

Imoen announced that she had advanced sufficiently as a mage to satisfy Mystra's requirements. No longer would she be prohibited from using the skills she had developed as a Thief, and Safana would not have to take sole responsibility for disarming traps and opening locks. Imoen would be able to take up her bow, and her short-sword, again; the only snag was that we had sold those weapons and thus far in the city had not seen any their equal or superior. Still, no doubt something would turn up. We celebrated her news with the best meal and wine the Elfsong Tavern was able to provide and retired, replete and happy, to beds with silken sheets.

I had another dream of death and blood that night. This time, when I awoke, I had no new powers. Just a vague memory of someone, an indistinct dark shape, screaming in agony and then falling suddenly silent. I had a horrible feeling that it had been my mother.

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I found the city, with its throngs of people, somewhat intimidating and confusing. Safana, who had grown up in Calimport, was used to such busy places, and Minsc took everything as it came and remained unruffled, but the rest of us were taking time to adjust. Viconia's background in Menzoberranzan, which was bigger and more populous than Baldur's Gate, was no help to her as its society was ordered on such different lines. Dynaheir kept making remarks like "Such bustle! Why, the cities of Rashemen are empty compared!" and gazing around open-mouthed. Safana warned her that this behavior would indicate to thieves that she was a stranger, and thus an easy mark, but the warning had little effect at first. Nothing bad came of it, though, perhaps because the looming presence of Minsc was an effective deterrent. Or perhaps it was because of the relationship we had established with the Thieves' Guild.

One thing I found disconcerting was the presence of inner walls within the city. As the city had grown beyond the original walls, new outer walls had been built, and then been outgrown in their turn. Traveling between the districts was not always straightforward. Sometimes what would have seemed to be a direct route ended at an impassable wall and a detour to find a gate was required. I decided that we should spend some time simply learning the geography of the city before taking any action against the Iron Throne.

And, of course, we ended up engaging in several quests. A woman begged us to retrieve a spell-book that would enable her to end a curse placed on her baby daughter by a jealous mage. I insisted on a full explanation before agreeing, as the woman appeared to be a mage herself and I did not want us to be used simply to harm a rival, but her plea was genuine. The other mage, one Yago, was her ex-husband and the child the result of her having had an affair – with Coran, the thief who had told us about the bounty on wyverns. Coran was an elf; Yago… wasn't. The baby had been evidence of the affair and, unsurprisingly, he had divorced her immediately. Less forgivably, he had placed a curse upon the child. Her cause was, therefore, just and I agreed we would help.

This quest sent us to a ship moored in the harbor, which operated as a tavern, a gambling den, and, I suspected, as a brothel. Yago was residing on the lowest deck and, as we made our way down, Minsc became embroiled in a fight with two exotic and deadly women. I didn't see what had started it but probably Minsc had misunderstood something. The rest of us rushed to his aid, of course, and although Minsc was quite badly hurt he suffered no permanent harm. As the women had drawn sword first the ship's management had no issues with us and we followed our usual custom of looting the bodies.

They had spell scrolls, two swords with a basic enchantment, another Wand of Fire to add to our collection, and – by far the most valuable item – Gauntlets of Ogre Power. They went to Viconia and turned her from the physically weakest of our group to the strongest. The expedition had been worthwhile even if we gained nothing else.

Reasonable persuasion did not work on Yago and he turned violent. So many people seem to resort to violence when it must be obvious that the odds are against them. I could understand it if it was for some crucial issue, for instance if surrendering an item would put their loved ones in peril, but not when it was just so that they could carry on with an evil scheme. He died without hurting us at all, of course, and we took his spell-book, plus a mage robe and some scrolls, and departed.

After a brief diversion to kill a basilisk that had escaped from captivity, and was running wild in a warehouse, we returned to the child's mother to deliver the spell-book. On the way we were approached by yet another mage, Ramazith, wanting to hire us for yet another quest; this time to liberate a nymph, being held captive by a rival mage, and bring her back to him. I was somewhat dubious about his motives, and suspect he simply wanted to be the one holding her captive, but I had heard a noblewoman in the street complaining about the mage Ragefast keeping a nymph as a slave and so I agreed that we would look into it.

It turned out that Ragefast thought that he was in love with the nymph and was blind to the harm that his compelling her to stay with him was doing to her. I was able to convince him that keeping her was doing neither of them any good. He released her, and she gave me a lock of her hair before departing. We left Ragefast to lament his lost love and returned to Ramazith. I felt that it was common courtesy to inform him of the result and I was interested to see what he would say.

He flew into a rage. His desire to free the nymph from Ragefast had had nothing to do with altruism. He had wanted to dissect her for spell components. After delivering a tirade of threats and insults he challenged us to face him at the top of his tower. It wasn't a necessary fight, and perhaps I should have declined the challenge and simply departed, but I believed that someone so callous was likely to engage in other heinous activities and that acting against him would be righteous. Anyway, Minsc was so incensed that he would have stormed off up the tower even without the rest of us. I gave the word and we went up.

This was the kind of wizard's tower one would find in stories. Each floor was guarded by monsters. Not creatures of great power, jellies and ghasts and hobgoblins and kobolds, but coming up the spiral staircase put us at a disadvantage. Even so, we cleared the way without difficulty, finally emerging into his chamber and facing him. He was confident of victory right up to the time when I thrust my sword through his chest.

His library held yet another magical tome. This one was a Tome of Clear Thought, enchanted to increase a single reader's intelligence, especially valuable for a mage. I wondered why he hadn't read it himself, and could only guess that he had read an identical one already and would not have benefited from reading a second. Whatever the reason, it was ours now, and it went to Imoen.

We continued to wander around the city, exploring, learning our way around, and getting into deadly but profitable confrontations. We called in at the bakery owned by the brother of Gilleen, the woman whom we had rescued from the bandits, and were given tasty and nourishing meat pasties at no charge. They were ideally suited to being eaten on the move as we continued to explore the city.

In the south-west quarter we encountered Aldeth Sashenstar, the merchant whom we had saved from fanatical druids in the Cloakwood, and after greeting us he asked us to investigate his associates in the Merchants' League. They had changed whilst he was away on his hunting trip, so much so that they almost seemed like different people, and were wasting the League's assets on frivolous and foolish schemes. That sounded remarkably like what Scar of the Flaming Fist had told us about the Seven Suns trading coster. We agreed to investigate, went into the Merchants' League headquarters with Aldeth, and after poking around for a while discovered that most of the upper echelons of the League had been killed and replaced by doppelgangers.

According to documents that Safana found they'd been trying to kill Aldeth for a while, to complete their takeover, but he'd avoided every attempt as much through sheer luck as anything else. The documents mentioned 'mercenaries who have been causing so much trouble in the south', which I was fairly sure was a reference to us, and so I guessed that there was a link to the Iron Throne. There was no signature on the documents, unfortunately, and so the link remained unproven.

The doppelgangers took violent exception to their impersonations being exposed. They weren't anything like as tough as some of the ones we had faced in Durlag's Tower and we killed them quickly. Aldeth was delighted with our help, and presented us with an enchanted sword that was an heirloom of his house, but it was a bastard sword and none of us favored that style of blade. Still, it was a nice gesture and the sword would sell for a good price.

The similarity of this takeover to Scar's description of the activities of the Seven Suns spurred us into heading that way as soon as we left the Merchants' League building. Our suspicions were confirmed. Everyone in the building had been replaced by doppelgangers, save for one merchant, who was panicking at the changes he saw in those whom he thought to be his friends, and for Jhasso, the head of the Seven Suns, who was being kept alive but imprisoned in the cellar. We killed all the doppelgangers, freed Jhasso, and went to report to Scar.

The Flaming Fist officer gave us a reward of six thousand Lions, generous and appreciated, and then asked us to perform another mission. He asked us to investigate the sewers in the east quarter of the city and see if we could find the lair of something that had been snatching citizens from the streets at night. It seemed a worthy cause, and he was paying us well, and we took the job.

I was actually enjoying our time in Baldur's Gate thus far. We were smiting evil and getting rich. Going down into the sewers was unlikely to be pleasant but if that was where the monsters were then that was where we would go. We called in at a shop called Sorcerous Sundries, the city's premier buyer and seller of magical goods, and sold off some of the things we had acquired. The proprietor offered to buy my locks of nymph hair and, when I was reluctant to part with them, offered to exchange them for a cloak of the same material. He would be able to use my nymph hair to make another two cloaks. This seemed like a good deal and I accepted, but asked him to hold onto the cloak for a while. There was no point in wearing such fine, and magical, garb for an expedition into filthy sewers.

The sewers weren't all that filthy, as it turned out, as there were good walkways above the channels where the liquid ordure ran. They were perilous, though, as we encountered first phase spiders and then a horde of carrion crawlers. The carrion crawlers were being controlled by an ogre mage, and after we'd killed him and his pets, we found a number of bodies stashed in webs. The disappearances had been solved. Scar rewarded us handsomely when we returned to the Flaming Fist headquarters, adding a bonus because we returned some of the belongings we found on the stored corpses, and said that he would discuss the Iron Throne with us later. We made light conversation with some of the Fist rank-and-file and one, a young man named Fergus, asked us to keep an eye out for an Angel-Skin ring; he wanted to propose to his lady and it was the type she particularly favored. As it happened, we had two of them in our possession already, and I was happy to give one to him, asking no payment. He blessed us and said that he owed us a favor.

We were hungry by this time and decided to call at a tavern near to the Flaming Fist building, the Helm and Cloak, for a meal. Another party of adventurers, Gorpel Hind and his Merry Fools, were engaged in the same activity and we shared some tales with them. They were the ones who had caught the basilisk that later escaped and rampaged through a warehouse, where we had killed it, and they were interested to hear of its eventual fate. We told them also of our conflict with the Iron Throne, hoping to gain allies, but they treated my account as a tall tale and merely applauded and bought us drinks. They told of a nearby mage who sought adventurers for a mission, although they thought him too untrustworthy to approach themselves, and I considered calling on him. We'd profited highly from our mission for the untrustworthy mage Ramazith, after all, although the greatest reward had come from our killing him.

Yet another party of adventurers, the Maulers of Undermountain, entered just as we were about to leave. This group was not friendly, to say the least, and I believe they coveted our equipment. One of them shoved Imoen out of his way so hard that she was thrown to the floor. Minsc roared and attacked. In seconds we were all involved in a full-scale brawl, but with deadly intent on both sides, and the Merry Fools rushed to our aid and joined in. The foe perished to the last Mauler and we shared their belongings with the Merry Fools.

The untrustworthy mage's house was not far away and we went there straight away, only to be attacked, as soon as we entered, by Doom Guards, Helmed Horrors, and Invisible Stalkers. We had fought them before, in Durlag's Tower, and they had tested us severely there, but by now we were more experienced and far better equipped. Once the last of them had fallen the owner of the house revealed himself.

"So, you have passed the test," he said. "I am Degrodel, mightiest of mages, and I have a job for you, if you are interested. I seek the fabled Helm of Balduran. It was last seen in the possession of a group of adventurers who tried to rob my colleague Ramazith. He turned them to stone and sold them as statues to the art dealer Felonius Gist. He has them on display at his manor, I understand, but he has refused to sell them to me. Here are six scrolls of Flesh to Stone. Break into Gist's manor, restore the statues, and if one wears the Helm take it for me. If it is not on them, interrogate them, find out where it is and retrieve it. I will pay you five thousand Lions to deliver the Helm to me."

There was no way I was going to refuse. Viconia was positively seething at the mention of petrified people being sold as statues. I accepted the scrolls, not mentioning that we had several in our possession already, and we departed. The security on Gist's manor was pathetic. We saw the statues through a window, Safana took only seconds to pick the lock on the nearest door, and none of the inhabitants of the manor even noticed as we read the scrolls and restored the statues to human form. There were only five of them and so we were a Stone to Flesh scroll to the good even if nothing else came of our mission.

The restored adventurers showed a distinct lack of gratitude, being convinced that we were not acting out of pure altruism, and I had to admit that they had a point. All denied knowledge of the Helm of Balduran, despite my entreaties and my telling them that I had slain Ramazith, and I was not going to resort to intimidation or worse merely for a financial reward. Their leader, an Elf named Vail, was particularly hostile to me because of my race. I allowed them to depart, accepting that we had lost this one, although Viconia regarded saving anyone from petrification as a victory in itself. Then, once we were back on the street and Safana was relocking the door, Imoen produced a letter.

"I wanted to get my hand at thieving back in, after taking the break to learn magic," she said, "and hey, look what I took from that rude guy's pouch. There's something about a helm in it."

I read the letter, which seemed to have been written shortly before the adventurers took on Ramazith, and it did indeed contain references to a helm. It had been hidden 'where people rest, in a building that may as well have been named for the purpose' and I interpreted that as meaning that it was in a bedroom in the Helm and Cloak Inn. The very place we had been only a half hour before. There was also a mention of a cloak that went with the helm, presumably the equally legendary Cloak of Balduran, that was being held by a 'fallen angel' named Quenash. We could work out what that meant later. First, to the Helm and Cloak.

Imoen's gift for finding hidden things proved reliable once again. The fabled helm was hidden behind a picture frame. It was powerfully enchanted, and probably worth far more than five thousand, but a deal was a deal and if Degrodel stuck to his part, we would stick to ours even though he had shown up as Evil to my spell. We went back to his house, handed over the helm, and he handed us a purse of coin in exchange.

"Your reward, as promised," he said. "You might even live to spend it. Guards!"

Another wave of Doom Guards and Helmed Horrors appeared and went for us. Degrodel attempted to slip out, carrying the helm, but Safana had positioned herself well, as usual, and she stabbed him in the back. He went to his knees and Viconia finished him off with a blow from Skullcrusher. Then it was yet another battle against Doom Guards and Helmed Horrors, almost routine by this time, although an Invisible Stalker caught Safana by surprise and badly injured her before we could kill it. Once the constructs were all destroyed we retrieved the helm, stripped Degrodel's body, and took everything else of value in the house.

I began to feel concerned about the morality of our actions. I resolved to pray to Eilistraee that night. It would be difficult to pray properly, as the presence of doppelgangers in the city had made me reinstate our rule about none of us ever being alone, but I hoped to be able to work something out. In the meantime, there was a cloak to locate.

Safana, once healed, suggested that a 'fallen angel' could refer to a courtesan. We might find Quenash either in the Low Lantern, where we had been before, or the city's Undercellar district. There was an entrance to the Undercellar in the Blushing Mermaid tavern, or so we had been told, and that was closer than the docks. The Blushing Mermaid was, therefore, our first destination.

It was the right place. The guards of the Undercellar pointed out Quenash to us and she handed over the cloak, willingly, once I described Vail to her and thus proved that I knew him. Her loyalty to him had wavered because it had been so long since he had visited her. I did not tell her that he had a valid excuse; I would have done if he had been less unfriendly, but his rudeness deserved some punishment. In exchange for Balduran's Cloak, which even a cursory examination showed to be highly enchanted, I gave her the cloak formerly the property of the lecherous Eldoth which, now that I had a nymph cloak as a replacement, was surplus to requirements and merely taking up space. We could have sold it for a high price, no doubt, but I was feeling a little guilty about the way we had obtained Balduran's Helm and Cloak and felt that giving the other cloak to Vail's girlfriend would be at least some recompense.

It was dark by this time, we were tired and hungry, and we had used up most of our combat and healing spells. We returned to the Blushing Mermaid and went out into the city again. I found a sheltered patch of grass tucked away behind a shrine of Ilmater, screened from curious eyes, where I could strip off and pray to Eilistraee naked under the moon. Viconia watched over me and said her own prayers to Shar. I felt a reassuring presence as I prayed; Eilistraee, it seemed, did not disapprove of my actions. Then, dressed again, I joined the others in seeking out somewhere luxurious to dine and spend the night.

The Blushing Mermaid's fare was a little too basic for our liking, as it seemed a shame not to enjoy the best while we had the money, but the nearby Splurging Sturgeon offered a better class of meal and room. Dynaheir had to share with Minsc, as I insisted that no-one should room by themselves, but they had done so before on their travels and it was no hardship. Despite that precaution we kept a watch, even in the inn, that duty falling to myself and Viconia because of our elven need for less sleep than humans. Before we slept, however, Dynaheir and Imoen identified our new acquisitions.

The Helm and Cloak of Balduran were powerful items indeed. The cloak had the powers of a Cloak of Protection but, unlike that garment, could be worn in conjunction with other magical protections. The helm had similar protective powers and also granted a bonus to the wearer's weapon use in combat. Together they made a formidable addition to any warrior's armory. I would have been prepared to dice for them, or draw straws, but everyone was happy that they should go to me. I passed on the Gift of Peace helm, that I had taken from an ogre mage, to Minsc and we exchanged his helm of infravision for a ring that gave the same power. I kept the nymph cloak to wear when negotiating prices, or when persuading a contact to give us information, but I would wear Balduran's Cloak for combat. Safana, or Imoen, could wear the nymph cloak whenever I wasn't using it. Our equipment was comprehensive enough by now that I felt we were more or less ready to take on the Iron Throne.

Every time I had a thought like that, something went wrong. This was no exception. Two thugs approached us and threatened us, telling us that if we didn't drop our investigation into the Iron Throne we would be killed. They kept their hands well away from their weapons, giving us no excuse to start a fight, and departed. Then, as we were heading in the direction of the Flaming Fist compound, one of them reappeared and approached us with nervousness evident on his face.

He claimed that he was not a willing employee of the Iron Throne but had been bound to their service by a geas. He wanted our help to break the geas but told us that his companion had already poisoned us, with a slow-acting binary poison consisting of two components that had been separately inserted into our meals, and that we had ten days to live unless we obtained a specific antidote. If we helped him, he would help us get that antidote.

I wasn't altogether convinced by his story but felt that we had to act as if he was telling the truth. I agreed that we would go with him to a diviner, who he said could reveal how his geas could be broken, and to do whatever the diviner said was necessary.

She told us that the only person who could break the geas was Jalantha Mistmyr, High Priestess of Umberlee, at the Water Queen's House. Jalantha demanded a 'book of wisdom' as her price, telling us that it could be obtained from the Temple of Tymora at the Lady's House, and so we scuttled off to the north-west quarter of the city. There we were approached by a small boy who begged us to help him by retrieving the body of his friend, who had been killed when the two boys trespassed in the Water Queen's House on a dare, but whose father was a priest who could Raise him if the body was returned. We combined the two quests, as we were going back there anyway, and after expending two and a half thousand gold ended up with the dead boy returned to life, an enchanted shield as a reward, and the geas removed.

The grateful unwilling assassin gave us what he claimed was half of the antidote and told us we could get the other half from his partner Marek, who hung out on the upper floor of the Blushing Mermaid. Off we went, trekking across the city again, found Marek and killed him. He not only held enough antidote for all of us but he had been armed with the finest short-bow I had yet seen, an Eagle Bow, which was claimed by Safana. Even this rather frustrating diversion had seen us come out in profit in the end.

Now, at last, we were able to return to the Flaming Fist compound and nothing interrupted us this time.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Scar told us that Duke Eltan, one of the lords who ruled the city and the overall commander of the Flaming Fist, wanted to speak to us personally. He took us to meet the duke in a private room within the citadel. Duke Eltan listened to what we had to say about the Iron Throne but said that he was fully occupied with trying to stave off war with Amn and couldn't act against the Iron Throne without concrete evidence. He asked us to break into the Iron Throne's headquarters and gather that evidence. I believe that he was following a principle called 'plausible deniability'. If we were caught, he'd be able to say truthfully that we weren't his people. From our point of view, it meant that we had at least a degree of official backing for something that we were going to do anyway.

We walked openly into the Iron Throne building through the front door. A merchant passed us in the other direction, declaring that he was leaving the Iron Throne for good, and muttering about madness and Sarevok's acolytes practicing magic upstairs. We exchanged glances; this was reminiscent of what we had found at the Seven Suns and the Merchants' League. Was the Iron Throne, too, being taken over by doppelgangers?

A guard halted us and demanded to know our business. I claimed that we were hoping to be taken on as new employees and asked where we should go. He directed us to the fourth floor and let us pass. The Helm of Balduran was open-faced, its enchantment more than making up for its lesser physical protection, and my race was plainly evident to anyone who looked me in the eye. It would seem that the Iron Throne hadn't passed on my description to their lower-echelon employees.

We headed up the stairs, intending to go right to the top, and on the third floor we were challenged by another guard. I claimed that we were going to the fifth floor to deliver a message to Sarevok's acolytes. This satisfied the guard, who must have been another who hadn't been warned about us, but he remarked that he'd rather it was us than him who went up to the fifth floor because the people up there were 'creepy'. When I enquired further, he said that he'd seen the eyes of one of them change color, going from brown to a luminous quicksilver for a moment, and that their faces also seemed to change. Doppelgangers, as I had suspected.

We started casting protection spells as we went. This proved to be a wise precaution, as on the fifth floor we were confronted by a doppelganger backed up by two mages, two clerics, and two fighters. They attacked at once. As usual, Dynaheir summoned monsters between us and our foes, and the rest of us unleashed a storm of Arrows of Fire, Arrows of Ice, envenomed crossbow bolts, spells, and sling bullets. By the time the monsters had perished most of the enemies were dead. Minsc and I finished off the survivors with our swords and we gathered up a number of spell scrolls and enchanted weapons. Nothing to match what we already possessed but enough to fetch a very good price. And, of most interest, a letter.

After an opening that seemed to be mainly flattery directed at the recipient it went on to say:

_T'rissae has become as a thorn in my side. I wish it removed. Do so, and you shall please me greatly. Such is your charge. Do not fail in this._

_Sarevok._

Very interesting. However more interesting still were two other letters that we found in a desk in an interior room. One, addressed to Rieltar, proposed a meeting between the writer and the Iron Throne executives in, of all places, Candlekeep. The other, also addressed to Rieltar, was… strange.

_Father,_

_I received your letter, and I can assure you that the mercenaries led by T'rissae will no longer trouble our operations. I have dealt with them personally. Before dying, they were most forthcoming in their revelations. It is as you had surmised: they were agents of the Zhentarim. I am also writing to tell you that I cannot attend the meeting at Candlekeep. Some problems have arisen with the Chill and the Black Talons. They have had trouble working with each other, and I am needed there to smooth over any dissension. I am sorry that I will not be at your side._

_Sarevok._

This didn't seem to make any sense. I was alive, and no-one had 'dealt with' me, personally or otherwise. We most certainly were not agents of the Zhentarim. The only problem that had arisen with the Chill and the Black Talons was that, courtesy of our party, they were almost all dead. Sarevok was lying to his father. I wondered why, and what this meant for me and my friends, but the only person who could answer would be Sarevok and any meeting was likely to be far too violent for conversation.

In another interior room we found the dead body of an elderly woman, richly dressed, with papers on her indicating that she was someone called 'Emissary Tar'. There was nothing to reveal of whom, or what, she was an emissary. I suspected that there might be a doppelganger 'Emissary Tar' wandering around somewhere.

And there was one living person. A man in the robes of a well-to-do merchant, cowering in the corner of a room, who said that he was called Thaldorn and was one of the leaders of the Iron Throne. He claimed not to know anything about me, nor of the illegal side of the Iron Throne's activities, and said that only Rieltar and another executive named Brunos knew all the details of their operations. They had gone to Candlekeep, he told us, to meet with investors from the south.

That was odd in itself, for to the south lay Amn, and the talk in the city was of a war with Amn looming. Tethyr, further to the south, had been wracked by civil war for nearly twenty years and, although the war seemed to have ended and an apparently stable monarchy been established, I couldn't imagine that it was in good enough shape yet to support merchants able and willing to invest outside the country. Calimshan, perhaps? It seemed unlikely. I was no expert on mercantile matters, however, as although I had read widely much of the information in the books in Candlekeep was out of date, and I put the matter aside. More important was the question of how we could enter Candlekeep to question Rieltar himself.

We allowed Thaldorn to go, as I would not kill someone who offered no resistance, and left the building to return to Scar and Duke Eltan. The duke solved the problem of our admission to Candlekeep by presenting us with a book of ancient knowledge, rare enough to satisfy the entrance requirements, and sent us on our way.


	11. Ch 10: The Blood That Moves The Body

**Chapter Ten: The Blood That Moves The Body**

It had been almost four months now since I left the place that had been my home for as long as I could remember. It was a strange feeling approaching it again after so long, and so many experiences, and I felt an acute pang at realizing that I would not see Gorion there. The Keeper of the Gates accepted the book, and admitted us, and we went through the gates into the courtyard.

Despite the urgency of our mission we did not enter the main library building straight away. All of us were exhausted after our journey and we rested for the night in Winthrop's inn. I insisted on maintaining the rule about no-one being alone, and on one of us always being awake and on guard, and it might have been well that I did.

That night I had another of my disturbing dreams. This time it was of Candlekeep, as it had been when I first entered, and I believe that a lot of the dream was in fact accurate memory resurfacing after having been long forgotten.

I was a young girl again, with barely any sign of my breasts as yet, and I must have been three or four inches shorter than my full height. It was dark, and there was a smell of blood, and I heard someone scream. Then Gorion took my hand and said "Run!" And I ran, away from something unknown, with Gorion leading the way.

Then I was in the grounds of Candlekeep, still a young girl, and it was daylight. At my side was Gorion, looking not much different to when I had last seen him, although perhaps a little straighter and a touch less gray of hair and beard. He was striding rapidly and I had almost to run to keep up with his long legs. His hurry, I somehow knew, was because he had an important meeting with Ulraunt, the Keeper of the Tomes. The meeting was about me.

I was left behind, when Gorion went in, and I stood outside the closed doors of the inner keep listening to the voices shouting within. I could not make out what was said but knew that it was odd; Gorion rarely raised his voice.

I wandered away, to the pools and fountain that were beside the path to the keep doors, and traced patterns in the water with my fingers. I knew that I felt unhappy and scared at the thought of being sent away. I had another faint memory of blood, and someone screaming, and thrust it from my mind.

A reflection caught the eye of my younger self and distracted me from the barely-heard argument. A large raven had perched atop a stone wall and stared directly at me with huge black eyes. I stared back, through the mirror of the water, and suddenly felt afraid to meet the bird's gaze any other way. The claws of its feet suddenly reminded me of skeletal fingers.

The doors of the keep suddenly swung open and Ulraunt stormed out. He glanced at me for a moment but looked away, back into the keep, as he spoke. "You both can say," he said with a sneer, "but, mark my words, that child will be the death of you."

Another flash of memory. A sword swinging. Then Gorion walked out of the keep, but not as he entered; as he was when I had last seen him, slashed open and dead. I averted my eyes and turned my gaze back to the water so as not to see. The raven had gone but my own image remained. My eyes, in the reflection, were not dark red but black, like those of the bird.

"Like father, like child," the reflection said.

"I think not," another voice broke in. I saw another reflection, behind mine, but did not dare turn to look as if it was behind my physical body also. It was an apparently human woman, much taller than my reflection, with skin of ivory white but hair of raven black. Her eyes seemed to be purple. "She is her own person."

"Why do you interfere?" my reflection asked. "She is not yours."

The purple-eyed woman shook her head. "No, but _he_ called upon me on her behalf, though he did not mean to do so, and in a sense that does make her mine. And she is friend to one who _is_ mine. Friends are good on the day of battle. And it is coming."

"She _will_ learn," my reflection said.

"True," said the woman, "but perhaps not what you want her to learn. It will be her own choice." Her voice deepened. "Now, child, awake. You will have need of your strength, and your friends, in the nights to come."

I awoke in a tangle of bedsheets to find that Viconia was holding my hand and stroking my forehead. She stopped when she realized that I was awake.

"You were in distress, _Jabbress_," she said, speaking in Ilythiirra, "and I knew not what to do to comfort you."

"I think you did," I croaked out. My mouth was dry but my body was wet with perspiration. "I thank you." I could feel that something had changed and, after a moment, I realized that I had been granted another power. Draw Upon Holy Might, a spell that Viconia possessed and used, one that would make me even more formidable in combat. But where had it come from? The purple-eyed woman could only have been Shar. Was she aiding me because of my friendship with Viconia? So it would seem.

"I saw Shar, in my dream," I told Viconia. "I think she was supporting me."

"Shar looks upon us with favor, as I have said," Viconia said. "All of us."

I put the matter aside, for the time being, and arose. I took my turn on guard so that Viconia could sleep and regain spells. I occupied myself in thinking; I had a lot to think about. When Shar said '_he_ called upon me on her behalf,' what had she meant? I guessed, from the way she had stressed 'he', that she had meant Gorion. Shar's spheres included Memory and Memory Loss. Had Gorion drawn upon her power to remove my memories of my life before Candlekeep? It seemed plausible, even likely. Why had he done so? Perhaps the letter that he left for me would hold answers to this, and other, questions.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

The others arose in the morning and, after we had broken our fast, we strolled about the grounds for a little while. Imoen and I greeted old friends, like Dreppin and Hull, and listened to the familiar chant of the Voices of the East, North, South and West reciting the Prophecies of Alaundo, and then I took us into the priest's bunkhouse to show the others the place where I had first been attacked.

There was a priest of Oghma inside, as would have been expected, but what was unexpected was that he was dissecting a dead cat. This was not normal behavior for a priest at all, still more so because if it was being done for any legitimate reason surely it would have been done in the temple rather than the bunkhouse. I pressed for an explanation and the 'priest' hissed, said something about 'forget the plan', and that he would study my dead flesh as he studied the cat, and transformed into a doppelganger for the last three seconds of his life.

I was severely shaken. Could I trust anyone here? Who else might have been replaced by a doppelganger? Winthrop? Fuller? Hull? Phlydia? Parda? Even… Tethtoril, or Ulraunt? We could not afford to trust anyone. This was reinforced when we went to the other bunkhouse, the one in which I had been attacked for the second time, and met Parda. He said that some of the residents were acting strangely, passing him in the halls without saying a word, not like themselves at all, and that he sensed a malignant presence within Candlekeep. This would seem to show that he was himself, and genuine, but I wasn't going to assume anything. I promised to help and headed for the keep that housed the library proper.

A stranger approached us as we went up the path. He introduced himself as Cadderly, a visiting priest, and claimed to have known Gorion for a long time. He revealed that Gorion had been a Harper, something that I had not known, and I wondered if that was how he had known Jaheira and Khalid. Everything else he said was too vague to be of any use.

Inside the keep an old friend, Karan, greeted us. I returned his greeting, in friendly fashion, but remained wary. He noticed my unease, enquired as to what was wrong, and asked me if he should call the Watchers. I didn't tell him about the doppelganger, for if he was one himself it would put him on alert, but asked if he had seen anything wrong himself.

"Why, yes," he replied, and told me about a visitor named Koveras. Karan had noticed him reading the Prophecies of Alaundo aloud, from the copy kept within the keep, but on drawing closer had seen that Koveras was reading with his eyes closed and obviously reciting them from memory. I could recite them myself but that was after years of hearing them. It was, indeed, strange behavior from a visitor.

"Koveras is Sarevok reversed," Imoen observed, after Karan had departed.

"He's here, despite what his letter to his father said," I mused, "and, going by that other letter, he seems to have a particular interest in seeing me dead."

"Do we kill him on sight, _Jabbress_?" Viconia asked.

"We can't, _abbil_," I told her. "He's here in the guise of a legitimate visitor and if we strike first the Watchers will react as if we'd attacked an innocent. We have to wait for him to make the first move. And no doubt he won't unless he feels that he has all the advantages."

"That sucks," said Imoen.

"It does," I agreed, "but it is how things have to be. I need to see the letter Gorion left for me. It will be in his room, on the fifth floor, unless someone else has taken over the room and removed his old desk, which is possible. I'll check the room first."

Before we could start ascending the stairs two more of the librarians intercepted us. Theodon and Jessup, who had been among my teachers when I was young, and they related to the party tales of my habit of dancing naked and various embarrassing incidents it had caused. I doubted if doppelgangers would attack by trying to embarrass me, and so they presumably were still themselves, but I was glad when they ran out of tales and moved on.

On the next floor the young librarian Bendalis met us and stopped to chat for a moment. Like Karan, he mentioned that Koveras made him nervous and also commented that Shistal, another librarian, had been acting particularly strangely lately. Hardly had Bendalis departed when a young man approached.

He was tall, exceedingly so, taller even than Minsc and at least a full foot taller than me. There had been an acolyte monk amongst the Readers who was as tall, two or three years before, but he had been at Candlekeep only for a short time, I had not known him, and I had seen him only at a distance. I assumed, at first, that this was the same man and regretted not having made a point of meeting him before. He was broad across the shoulders, and narrow at the hips, and the muscles in his arms rippled inside the sleeves of his robes. His hair was cropped short, he had deep brown eyes, and his face was strong and handsome. I gulped. He was the best-looking man I had ever seen and, for the first time in my life, I felt a strong attraction to a male.

"Ah, I thought I might find you somewhere around here," he said. "Allow me to introduce myself."

"Please do," I said, just about managing to control my voice.

"My name is Koveras," he said. My heart sank. The first man to whom I had felt attracted and he turned out to be the one who murdered my foster-father and wanted to murder me.

"I used to work for your father," he continued, lying through his teeth, "running messages to his Harper friends in Waterdeep. Before he passed on, he entrusted this ring to me and asked that I give it to you should evil ever befall him… will you take it?"

"And what evil befell him, _Koveras_?" I said.

He must have realized that I had seen through his flimsy pseudonym. "You were there," he said. "You saw it all. A woman, an armored figure, two ogres wielding clubs, and two archers. But Gorion's petty magic was of little use against them, was it not? And you, you fled with your tail between your legs, hiding amidst the trees until dawn broke."

"Because you didn't dare follow a Drow into the darkness," I retorted, "where the advantage would have been mine. You waited until it began to rain and then left me for your agents to deal with. I wonder what happened to them? Oh, wait, I remember. They're all dead."

"I still say we should kill him now," Viconia said, in Ilythiirra.

Koveras, or Sarevok, raised his eyebrows. "You have become feisty," he said, "and untrusting. I am surprised you have made it this far. It is of little matter. Go seek your vengeance or your doom at the hand of the Iron Throne. I wash my hands of it." He turned and walked away.

"We can't kill him unless he starts something, _abbil_," I reminded Viconia. "We had better move on."

On the next floor up I noticed that one of the rooms was in use for a meeting and, guessing that the occupants would be the leaders of the Iron Throne, I approached.

"My dear lady, in case you haven't noticed, this room is in use and our meeting is private," a well-dressed middle-aged man addressed me. "Manners maketh the gentlewoman, so they say, so would you kindly prove that you are one by leaving?"

"Excuse me," I said, "but would you be Rieltar?"

"Rieltar Anchev," he confirmed, "and, as I have said, this is private. Kindly leave us alone."

"Are you aware that your son is here?" I asked. "And that he told you he'd killed me but, as you can see, I live still?"

"My son? Sarevok?" He frowned. "You are mistaken. He is far from here. And you… you would be Terissay of Amn, correct?"

"I am _T'rissae_ of _Candlekeep_," I stressed. "The only part of Amn I've ever been to was a brief stay in Nashkel. Your son has been lying to you."

"Your attempts to sow dissent will not succeed," Rieltar said, "and your time grows short. You may find safety within this library but once you have left there will be no place you can run."

"Oh, I don't know, we've done fairly well so far," I said, "but this is not the place for conflict. When you leave… we will be waiting." I turned about and, followed by my comrades, made for the stairs.

The librarian Shistal, mentioned by Bendalis as one who was acting strangely, walked past as we reached the next landing. I spoke to him, he had no idea who I was, and as I had known him for ten years this confirmed that he was a doppelganger. I nodded to Safana and she drifted, casually, behind him. Imoen went to my left, Viconia went to my right, and then I pressed my questions until he lost his temper and transformed.

This was a greater doppelganger, with magical abilities, that were no use whatsoever when we already had it boxed in. It managed to cast Mirror Image and Haste but didn't succeed even in striking a single blow before going down permanently. There was no-one else around at the time and so we simply left the body lying, where hopefully its discovery would raise an alarm, and continued up to the fifth floor.

"T'rissae! Good to see you," a monk named Piato greeted me. "I trust you are well?" He seemed to be human.

"Actually, I feel as if life is dragging me around by a noose, Piato," I replied. "Not good at all."

He commiserated, and suggested that I and my friends should get some rest in Gorion's old room, which had been left untouched since his death. We didn't need the rest but it was good to know that the room was unoccupied and hadn't been cleared out. He led us there, unnecessarily but I didn't object, and left us to our own devices.

I went straight to Gorion's old desk and its secret compartment. There was a letter there, addressed to me, just as he had once told me. I read it… and felt ill. Very ill.

The letter stated that my father wasn't some unknown Drow but was a god. Bhaal, god of murder, slain by Cyric during the Time of Troubles when the gods walked Faerûn in mortal form. According to the letter Bhaal had sought out women of every race, including my mother, and forced himself upon them to sire the 'score of mortal progeny' referred to in the Prophecies of Alaundo. I was one of them.

"The Lord of Murder shall perish, but in his doom he shall spawn a score of mortal progeny," I quoted. "Chaos will be sown from their passage. So sayeth the wise Alaundo."

'_There are many who will want to use you for their own purposes_,' the letter warned me. '_One, a man who calls himself Sarevok, is the worst danger. He has studied here at Candlekeep and thus knows a great deal about your history and who you are_.'

"Great, now he tells me," I muttered. "Oh, father, why couldn't you just have told me this in the first place?" I wondered how Sarevok had managed to study here without me ever having seen him before, and guessed that he must have used a magical disguise. Probably the tall monk I had vaguely noticed, but never met face to face, actually had been Sarevok. That, however, was the least important question. What did being the daughter of a god, and a particularly evil one at that, mean for me? Had the powers that had manifested themselves in me after horrific dreams come from my Bhaalspawn heritage rather than from Eilistraee? Was I doomed to become evil?

No, I would not allow it. I would stick strictly to my chosen course and my ambition to become a Silverhair Knight. No dead deity of the _rivvin_ would dictate my life.

"What does it say, Trissie?" Imoen asked. "I'm guessing it's something kinda bad, right?"

I passed the letter to her. I would not keep such a secret from the girl who was the closest thing to a sister that I had, nor from the others who had stood by me staunchly regardless of peril. All read it, although Dynaheir read it aloud for Minsc's benefit. I sat down on the bed that had been Gorion's and contemplated my fate and my next actions.

"Hey, don't look so sad, Trissie," Imoen said. "You're still the same person you were this morning."

"You are still my _Jabbress_," Viconia added, "and I will follow you as before."

Safana shrugged. "You've made me richer than my wildest dreams, and only spoiled a little bit of my fun," she said. "Why should I care who your father is? I'm with you."

"Boo says, T'rissae is a good person," Minsc said, "and I knew that anyway."

"I must confess I suspected that thee might be one of the Children," Dynaheir said. "I said nothing because it was suspicion only. Thee hast proven worthy of trust and thine father makes no difference."

I stood up. "I'm glad to hear it, everyone," I said. "I suppose we can't just stay here. We'd better move on. If we go on up to the sixth floor we might find Tethtoril or Ulraunt, the people with the most authority here, and we can tell them about the doppelgangers. As long as they haven't been replaced themselves, of course."

Hardly had we emerged on the sixth floor when one of the Gatewardens challenged us.

"You there! Stop and surrender yourselves!" he ordered. "You are accused of murdering the men Brunos Costak and Rieltar Anchev. If you give yourselves up now, you will be assured of a fair trial."

"What?" I exclaimed. "They're dead? I don't understand. They were alive only a few minutes ago. And what about the men who were with them?"

"There was no-one with them," the Warden said. "Surrender now! If you resist it will be taken as proof of your guilt." There were other Wardens approaching but I knew that my crew could kill every Warden in Candlekeep without breaking a sweat. I cast a quick Detect Evil on the Warden, who showed up clean, and signed for my comrades to stand down. I had no wish to kill those who were just doing their job, and were convinced of the rightness of their cause.

"I didn't murder anyone, so I am perfectly willing to go to trial," I said. "My innocence of this false accusation should be established quickly in any fair court of law." An unfair court, such as one in which the judges had been replaced by doppelgangers, would be quite another matter.

"I'm glad you still have some of the sense Gorion taught you," the Warden said. "Please, follow me. I'm sure everything will be sorted out quickly."

We went quietly, and allowed ourselves to be locked in a cell, but we made no move to hand over our weapons. The Wardens didn't press the point.

The true murderer had to be Sarevok. I guessed that the 'investors from the south' had been doppelgangers, who had turned on Rieltar and his companion when Sarevok gave a signal, and had then adopted other identities and departed. Proving it might be difficult, but we still had some of the incriminating letters, and Duke Eltan could back us if a check was made with Baldur's Gate. The situation was bad but not irretrievable. Or so I thought.

Our first visitor was Ulraunt, the Keeper of the Tomes, the highest authority in Candlekeep. He had always been somewhat cold and distant to me, as if he tolerated me only for Gorion's sake, but he was always fair, if strict.

"So, T'rissae, you have sullied your father's name by defiling his home and ruining a peace that has lasted for centuries," he said, glowering at me. "I knew Gorion was making a mistake by bringing a Drow into this place, not to mention the other part of your evil heritage, and I see you have taken up with another of your foul kind. I spit on you and all of your friends. Your transgressions will be punished in the most severe form. I formally accuse you of the murders of Brunos Costak and Rieltar Anchev."

"But I have done nothing wrong!" I protested. "Why are you accusing me of such a thing?"

"Why have I accused you? You were seen fleeing the murder scene by the guest Koveras," Ulraunt explained. "He found the identifying ring of a Shadow Thief assassin in your personal effects, and gold minted in Amn. I feel that is strong enough proof to accuse you."

"Yes, we have gold minted in Amn," I said. "We cleared the Nashkel mines of an infestation of kobolds and were well rewarded. Nashkel is Amnian. An Amnian Danter is worth the same as a Baldur's Gate Lion. There was no point in me insisting on receiving Baldur's Gate currency." The Shadow Thief ring, I guessed, would be the one Sarevok had tried to give me downstairs. Failing to plant it on me, he'd simply lied and claimed he'd found it in my effects, although he'd never come close to them.

"A likely story," Ulraunt scoffed. "From everything we have seen and found, it is not hard to figure what your purpose was. From what I have been told, you have been trying to place all the misfortune of the Sword Coast squarely on the shoulders of the Iron Throne. I assume you and your friends are assassins in the employ of Amn. Perhaps you were sent up north to create discord in the region before an Amnian invasion. It matters little, as you and your friends are to be sent to Baldur's Gate, where an appropriate punishment will be administered."

"Sent up north?" I echoed. "Are you insane? I've been living here for ten years and I wasn't even grown up when Gorion adopted me. Are you claiming Amn planted a child here on the off-chance she could assassinate someone ten years later? And why take the word of Koveras? Ask Karan about his strange behavior."

"I will listen to no more of your lies," Ulraunt said. "I told Gorion that you would be the death of him, and I was right. Soon you will meet your well-deserved fate." He turned and stalked out.

"It looks as if we're going to have to break out," I said. "Imoen, Safana, get this cell open."

"Sorry, Trissie, no can do," Imoen reported, a minute later. "There isn't any lock. The bars are solid. They must have been opened with magic and once the spell ended they turned solid again. And I don't know anything like Dimension Door or Teleport. How about you, Dyna?"

"Call me not that, child," Dynaheir snapped. "No, I know not those spells nor any like unto them."

"_Vith'ol!_" I swore. "And they're too thick even for me and Minsc to bend. Acid to melt through them, maybe? We have plenty of acid arrows."

Before anyone could act on my suggestion, we had another visitor; this time Tethtoril the First Reader, the second highest in rank of those who resided at Candlekeep.

"Hello, young one," he greeted me. "I am sorry to see thee in such terrible circumstances. I know thee well enough to see that thou hast been falsely accused. Tomorrow Ulraunt will most likely sentence thee to be sent to Baldur's Gate. There, thou wouldst receive the death penalty for these actions. I know that Gorion would not want to see his only child killed a scant few months after his own death. 'Tis as a favor to his memory that I will help thee escape. Make thy way through the catacombs beneath the library, but disturb them not."

"Thank you, Tethtoril," I said. I had read of the Candlekeep catacombs, which were reputed to be monster-haunted and dangerous, but also said to contain great treasures. I had never been down there but it wouldn't surprise me if Imoen had explored them, at least partially. "I'd better warn you, some of the people in Candlekeep have been replaced by doppelgangers. One of the priests, and Shistal, for certain and quite probably others. And Koveras, who accused us, is really Rieltar Anchev's son Sarevok. I'm fairly sure he killed his father and is trying to frame us."

"I shall look into it," Tethtoril said. "It is time for thee to go now, lest Ulraunt return. I can teleport you to the secret room that leads to the catacombs, but from there you are on your own. You must be careful within the catacombs, as there are many guardians and traps, and perhaps whoever planned these murders. However dangerous the catacombs may be, they are a safer alternative to Ulraunt's wrath. Ready yourselves!" He gestured, things around me blurred, and I felt a sensation of falling as his spell transported us to another room.

This room was lined with bookcases, which was no surprise this being Candlekeep, and investigating them turned up several spell scrolls. One of them was even for a spell, Shadow Door, which neither Dynaheir nor Imoen already knew; an occurrence which was becoming increasingly rare, as their repertoires grew. I changed my cloak as the mages packed away the scrolls, replacing the nymph cloak that I wore for talking with Balduran's Cloak for fighting, and then we moved on into the catacombs.

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The exit from the scroll storeroom led to a fairly large square chamber with an exit at each side. I asked Imoen if she had, as I suspected, sneaked into the catacombs before. She had, but had not gone far before losing her nerve and turning back, and this area was strange to her. I had a habit of taking the left-hand fork at any choice and saw no reason to change now. Before I could announce my decision, we were approached by someone I would never have expected to meet in such a place. Phlydia, a kindly but scatter-brained mage, for whom I had run countless errands over the years and always been well rewarded.

"My book!" she hissed. "You stole my book, you cur! Thssss!" With that final hiss she transformed into a doppelganger. And, of course, died almost instantly.

"This is getting kinda creepy," Imoen complained. "How many other people have those things replaced?"

"All too many, I suspect," I said. "I'm fairly sure I could use Detect Evil to spot them, but I haven't tried it out so far. We'll just have to continue treating everyone we meet as suspicious until they prove otherwise."

We took the left-hand path and almost at once I came close to stepping on a pressure plate before Safana halted me. Our progress onward continued at a slow pace, Safana beside me at the front, alert for danger. The next fork we took led to a chamber, protected by three traps in the doorway, in which was a trapped tomb.

"Evil round every corner," Minsc remarked. "Careful not to step in any."

The tomb held treasure. Some jewelry, a protection scroll, a ring of Fire Resistance, and a Tome of Understanding. I took the ring, simply because I was the only one not already wearing two magic rings, and the book went to Viconia. We paused to give her a chance to read it, for it would allow her to cast more spells, although the benefits would not take effect until she had prayed and rested. The contents of the tomb had been so valuable that I decided we should take every opportunity to investigate other tombs, despite the danger, and regardless of the distaste I felt at violating the sanctity of the dead. Against the forces arrayed against us we needed every advantage we could get.

And we were accumulating things that would give us significant advantages. We fought phase spiders, made our way past countless traps, and found more and more treasure. A store of valuable potions. Scrolls. Jewelry. A Cloak of Protection twice as powerful as the one Dynaheir wore. And a Manual of Gainful Exercise.

This magical book would increase the strength of a reader and then, sadly, disappear. Its benefits would be of most use to one whose primary skill was in physical combat and so it would be most appropriate for me or for Minsc. He had received the Manual of Quickness of Action and so this one went to me.

The benefits were immediate. I tested myself by picking up Minsc, with his full armor and equipment, and did so with ease. I wondered if now I might even be stronger than Sarevok. Not that I had any intention of engaging in a pure trial of strength against him, I would be happy merely to keep him occupied as my companions filled him full of arrows, but it was good to know that I should be at least able to hold my own if it came to it. And there were plenty of other perils down in the catacombs against which my additional strength should come in handy.

First came an area infested with ghouls and then, after taking the right-hand fork, we emerged into a great hall with rooms around the side and a large area of tiled floor in the center.

"I recognize this place," Imoen informed me. "This is as far as I got when I poked around a long time ago. There were a lot of skeletons in the middle part, with bows, and I ran away when they started loosing at me. I could find my way back to the keep from here."

"I don't think there's any point," I said. "We might end up having to fight innocents before we could get them to listen to us. We'd best keep on looking for the way out of Candlekeep."

The skeletons were soon disposed of, with a barrage of fireballs from our two mages, but the rooms around the side held more doppelgangers impersonating those I had known. Dreppin, the staff-fighting instructor Jondalar, Hull, Karan, Reevor, Parda, and Fuller… old friends and teachers now spewing vile and twisted parodies of things they had often said to me in the past, then transforming into monsters and attacking. All died quickly without harming us other than with their words. I came to the conclusion that doppelgangers, for all their abilities to impersonate people, really weren't very intelligent. The shocking effect of the impersonations was dwindling and I began to think that, as long as we stayed together and gave them no chance to impersonate one of us, the only danger they posed was the possibility of tricking us into killing an innocent. Not that there was much chance of that down here…

Except that there was. Arkanis, a dwarven fighter, and his friend Deder, a halfling fighter and thief, who had been amongst those who helped me learn to fight in a team, came scuttling toward us. I was within seconds of pulling my crossbow's trigger and sending a bolt through Arkanis when he spoke and his words, very different from those spoken by the doppelganger versions of my old friends, caused me to hold.

"By the gods!" Arkanis exclaimed. "That… thing was Reevor! What is going on, T'rissae? Obe asked us to search for you but… but this is more foul than any of his most fearsome illusions!"

I cast Detect Evil and neither of them displayed any hint of the red glow that would indicate evil. A part of my mind registered that Viconia, who had been caught by the fringe of the spell, no longer showed even a trace of red.

"It's a long story," I said, "but the short of it is that one of the visitors, calling himself Koveras, has brought doppelgangers into Candlekeep and they've taken the places of some of the residents. I don't know if they've killed those they replaced or not but I fear the worst."

"By the gods!" Arkanis repeated. "This is terrible! I know not what assistance we can be to you, save for four strong arms and an eye for illusions, but we shall see you to the end of these crypts, though not beyond, for we must bear witness to the horrors that befoul this place."

"Actually, I think you could do the most good by returning to Obe at once," I said. "We may be tossing Fireballs around and we have become accustomed to fighting as a team. It would be too easy to hit you by mistake."

"Aye, lad, you have a point," he said. "We shall do as you suggest. Come, Deder, let us spread the word of this vile infestation." They turned and headed back the way they had come, in the direction that Imoen said led back to the keep.

At the far side of the hall from the point where we had entered was a short flight of steps leading to a broad passage that seemed to be an exit. A few paces into the passage we were confronted by three familiar figures. Elminster, in his familiar red robes and broad-brimmed pointy hat, Tethtoril, and… Gorion.

"T'rissae! Stop this madness, child, I beg of thee," Elminster pleaded. "Thou hast soaked these halls with the blood of innocents, and I cannot permit it to go further."

"Stay back!" I warned him. "The one with you wears the face of my foster-father, and I know him to be dead."

"Things are not as they appear, my child," the apparent Gorion said. "I did not die that night, nor have I yet. The blade that you thought slew me had been treated with a magical poison. It left me, a living soul and a lively mind, imprisoned in a body that gave all the appearance of death. The man you saw that night is called Sarevok, and he has been in the keep for three days past under the reverse alias 'Koveras'. Tethtoril kept watch on him but, in our foolishness, we never thought that he might have others with him. Please, my child, I have loved you too much to lose you now."

"Elminster and I had suspected it for some time," Tethtoril put in. "With Sarevok away from his lair, Elminster was at last able to locate your foster-father and bring him to safety. Forgive me, T'rissae, I should have told you earlier. But to raise your hopes only to see them dashed in pieces all over again? There is too much heart left in this bony cage for me to have done that."

"Please, child, sheathe those weapons and sheathe thy madness too," Elminster went on. "Come with us and we shall see thee, at last, to safety."

I didn't believe a word of it. Sarevok's sword had bit deep into Gorion, and then stabbed him again after he fell, and I had carried the body all the way back to Candlekeep. The wound had been immense, and his blood had saturated the ground where he fell, and Raise Dead had failed to bring him back. It had been no magical coma.

"You said that these halls were soaked with innocent blood," I said. "Then who was it who chased me through these wretched halls, calling my name in voices I once knew, only to close and attack in traitorous form?" During their speeches I had cast Detect Evil, which showed the three as all glowing bright red, and now I was taking advantage of their wordiness to give Viconia instructions with the hand signals of the Silent Tongue. I suspected that these three would be greater doppelgangers, much tougher than the regular ones and capable of using magic, and I wanted to take no chances.

"By all that is good, T'rissae, what have they done to your mind to haunt it so?" false Gorion said. "Your old friend Dreppin lies tangled in his own entrails, and foolish Phlydia, she ran down here to offer a mother's shoulder, and you have butchered her like the monster you perceived her to be… The gods have no mercy on we ragged mortals, it appears."

"I am a doddering and elderly fool for having let it come to this pass," false Elminster took up the appeal. "There stood I, Elminster the Arrogant, nudging and prodding but never taking action… the most powerful mage in the Realms reduced to a meagre puppeteer. Listen close, T'rissae. With the help of doppelgangers, and some powerful magics, Sarevok has encased thee within a vast and frightening illusion. I was unsure whether I could even penetrate it to reach thee."

"That's ungrammatical," I pointed out. "You should only use 'whether' in conjunction with 'or not'. The correct usage would be to just say 'if'."

"I… sss," he said, thrown off balance, and then resumed his speech. "The time has come for a leap of faith, child. Thou must fling aside this foul illusion and let us lead you back to reality where Sarevok is fightable."

"Your tale would have been convincing," I said, "but you haven't allowed for one thing. Sarevok cut Gorion almost in half. I carried his body back to Candlekeep and he was, quite definitely, dead. Dead as you're going to be. Kill them!"

Two Fireballs, and a column of flame from Viconia's Wand of the Heavens, blasted the three even as they began to transform. One of them fled, screaming and badly injured, and another charged and made it only as far as the point of my sword. The other managed to surround himself with Mirror Images, briefly, before dying with arrows from Minsc and Safana embedded in his chest.

We advanced along the corridor. A side room held a false Winthrop, who said especially disgusting things, before transforming and getting his head cut off. Imoen burst into tears at the thought of the affable innkeeper, who had been her foster-father as Gorion had been mine, having been slain. I comforted her by saying that it was possible his replica had merely been standing by, in readiness for a future impersonation, and Winthrop might yet live.

"Weep not, _abbil_," Viconia added, "for our _Jabbress_ is right. We have seen proof that they can impersonate those they have not slain. Think you that a mere doppelganger could slay Elminster, who is spoken of as perhaps greater even than Gromph Baenre? Had they slain Winthrop would they not have taken advantage of that to attack us in the inn whilst we slept? The chances are good that he yet lives, as do many others of those whose false forms we have seen. Take heart, and continue to teach them that their wiles are futile against us."

Imoen wiped her eyes and forced a smile. "Thanks… _abbil_," she said. "That makes me feel a lot better. I'd hug you, but I know you don't like it."

"I will permit it," Viconia said, "just this once."

Imoen embraced Viconia, who unbent enough to briefly put an arm around Imoen's shoulders, and then Imoen released her and stepped back.

"I'm good, now," Imoen said. "Let's carry on and teach these monsters that crossing us just gets them dead."

The next doppelgangers we met were in their inhuman forms. There were quite a few of them, including the badly burnt one that had impersonated Elminster, and I guessed that the purpose of the ruse had been to lead us into an ambush where we could have been attacked on all sides including by those who walked with us. The ambush had no chance of success, as we anticipated it rather than walking into it unsuspecting, and we slaughtered them all. Beyond that point we reached the end of the paved stone passages and entered a network of natural caves. We were out of the catacombs.

But not out of danger. Within yards of our entry into these tunnels we came upon a group of four well-armed mercenaries who attacked us at once. Two of them were mages and the other pair were fighters. I charged into their midst, and attacked one of the mages, and Imoen and Dynaheir sent Fireballs into the melee. I now wore two Rings of Fire Resistance and consequently was almost immune to any kind of flame; my opponents… were not. One of the fighters managed to get the tip of his blade under my cuirass, before I cut off his head, but the wound he inflicted was minor and Viconia healed me with one of her lesser curative spells.

They had good armor and weapons, including a throwing axe that bore an enchantment causing it to return to the wielder's hand after being thrown. None of us were skilled in the use of an axe, limiting its usefulness, although Minsc was interested enough to be willing to learn. It went into his pack for the time being. Of much greater interest was a letter in the possession of the one who must have been their leader.

It was addressed to 'Prat', and was signed by Sarevok. It said that 'my plans have come together' and went on to describe how 'the mercenaries who have plagued my every step', obviously referring to me and my comrades, had been imprisoned for the murders of Rieltar and Brunos. Prat was to learn as much as he could about the fate of 'the mercenaries' and then meet Sarevok back at Baldur's Gate. He apologized for leaving Prat's group behind but said that it was necessary to return to the city to take over Rieltar's position as chief of operations. It closed by saying 'If things proceed smoothly I shall be a Grand Duke within a few ten-days'.

"Sarevok's trying to become a Grand Duke?" Imoen said. "Is that what all this is about?"

"I suppose it makes some sort of sense," I said. "If he killed his father so he could get all the resources of the Iron Throne at his command, and then use the money and influence… but there aren't any vacancies for new Grand Dukes. He must be going to kill at least one of them."

"We must stop this evil scheme!" Minsc declared.

"I agree," I said, "but we'll have to proceed carefully. By the time we get back to Baldur's Gate word will have reached the city that we've been accused of murder. The Flaming Fist will try to arrest us and I don't fancy being locked up, no doubt with our weapons confiscated, when Sarevok makes his next attempt to have us killed."

"We can move around the city through the sewers," Safana suggested. "The Flaming Fist won't follow us there."

"An excellent idea," I said, "although we only know our way around one small part of them. Still, it will be worth a try. We'll see when we get there."

The first turning that we took was a dead end, inhabited by a phase spider, which we killed before retracing our steps. Along the next tunnel we tried we saw something that gave us a grim warning; statues.

This had the predictable result of putting Viconia into a state of combined high alert and seething anger. She at once summoned a Skeleton Warrior and sent it to take the lead. There were two greater basilisks, lurking beyond the statues, and as usual they wasted their attacks on the skeleton whilst we unleashed a shower of arrows, bullets, and bolts until they were dead.

The petrified people were humans, apparently an adventuring party, five in number. Viconia wanted to un-petrify them immediately but I insisted that first we needed to check out the rest of the area; there would be no point in rescuing them only for them to immediately fall victim to other basilisks. In the event there were none, but there were several phase spiders and a couple of sword spiders, and another of Sarevok's men who briefly mistook us for Prat's group before realizing who we were and trying to flee. We cut off his escape and, when he tried to fight his way out, killed him. His choice of direction led us to the way out, but we refrained from leaving until after we had done something about the adventurers trapped as stone.

Due to Viconia's insistence that we always kept a supply of Stone to Flesh scrolls we had the wherewithal to restore the basilisks' victims. One, however, was damaged to such an extent that I felt that there was no point in trying as he could not survive. Another, a female cleric by what was visible of her garb, was buried up to her waist in debris and, probably, bat guano. We used summoned monsters to dig her out before using our scrolls and un-petrifying the adventurers.

They were a little suspicious of our motives at first, and wary because of the presence of the ogre and gnolls we had employed as diggers, although oddly they didn't seem bothered by me being a Drow, but soon accepted that we had no ill intent and were grateful. They were not locals but were from Neverwinter, far to the north, and had intended to loot the catacombs. I considered sending them into Candlekeep to battle the doppelgangers, but they would be treated as intruders and attacked by Wardens and priests, and I scrapped the idea almost as soon as it occurred to me. Instead I informed them that there was no point in their continuing, as we had taken everything of value and slain all the monsters, and they decided to abandon their quest.

Interestingly, they at first took me for Cierre Tlabbar, whom they called Cierre of Luruar, and that was why they had not been concerned about my race. The revelation in Gorion's letter that I was a child of Bhaal had put the question of my mother's background out of my mind, but their mention revived my interest, and I asked what they knew of Cierre. They had not met her, and knew of her only by reputation, and could add nothing to what Drizzt had told me. We led them to the exit and went out into the open air, emerging onto a shingle beach at the foot of the cliffs that rose from the sea, and then clambered up a steep path onto a narrow stretch of land between the cliffs and the outer wall of Candlekeep. We passed unobserved alongside the walls and away.

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It was then that I made a decision that seemed of no importance at the time but could have had tragic results. The adventurers we had rescued wanted to head for Beregost and I decided we should accompany them there, to sell off our loot and recuperate, rather than heading straight for the Friendly Arm Inn and on to Baldur's Gate. I didn't regard the time element as critical, as we weren't going to reach Baldur's Gate ahead of the news of our being accused of murder, and I wanted to see Officer Vai as she could be a useful character witness.

She told us that she had, in fact, just received new orders to return to Baldur's Gate to make her reports. We would figure prominently, and very favorably, in them. That was very satisfactory and I felt that it could prove very useful.

After saying farewell to her we went around the town selling off our heavy items of loot and, as the sheer amount of gold we were carrying around was becoming an encumbrance in itself, buying valuable gems and jewelry. Some of the things we bought were things that we ourselves had sold earlier when we were eager to raise cash. Now we had to pay more than we had received to get them back. Ironic, I felt, and suggested to Imoen that perhaps it was an irony crisis. She groaned.

With the financial side of things dealt with we enjoyed sorely needed hot baths, dined well, and slept in the finest rooms. The next day we moved on to the Friendly Arm Inn, spent another luxurious night there, and then headed once more for Baldur's Gate.


	12. Chapter 11: Cry Wolf

**Chapter Eleven: Cry Wolf**

No-one stopped us as we made our way into the city but, as we passed by the Thieves' Guild building, the thief named Husam, who had given us some information about the Iron Throne earlier, came out to meet us. He told us that we were wanted for murder, and warned us to avoid the Flaming Fist patrols, and updated us on some recent events. Scar of the Flaming Fist had been assassinated, Husam informed us, and Duke Eltan had been laid low by illness. Husam said that if we needed him for anything else, later, we would find him at the Blushing Mermaid. After telling us that, he slipped away.

Other people that we talked to gave us similar news. Sarevok, we heard, had taken control of the Iron Throne and was selling off its assets to fund the arming of the city for war against Amn. He was putting himself forward as the savior of the city and as one who should be made a Grand Duke. He didn't seem to care that he was stripping the Iron Throne bare, and ruining it as a trading corporation, nor that his actions were jeopardizing the entire financial stability of the city. All the problems of the city, the iron crisis and the bandit raids, were being blamed on Amnian agents. We had been named as those agents, and as the murderers of the Iron Throne leaders, and there was a price on our heads.

The assassination of Scar had been attributed to the Shadow Thieves of Amn, due to a Shadow Thief mask and stiletto having been left with the body, and Sarevok in the guise of Koveras had claimed to find a Shadow Thief ring in my possession; no doubt this was the ring he'd tried to persuade me to accept from him. Worryingly for us, the armor that Safana was wearing, previously owned by Imoen, was Shadow Thief armor. We had purchased it legitimately, and could prove this if we were given the chance to call Taerom Fuiruim as a witness, but I couldn't see this being allowed. I wondered, in fact, if the armor and the other items had all come from a single Shadow Thief killed by Sarevok's people.

We heard this news from casual passers-by, some of whom were convinced supporters of Sarevok and others who questioned his motives, from someone who claimed to be an agent of the Harpers, from people such as Gilleen whom we had helped in the past, and even from a member of the Flaming Fist who owed us a favor and pretended not to be aware that we were the wanted 'murderers'. Then, outside Sorcerous Sundries, we were approached by someone I knew to be an enemy.

A woman, who wore full plate armor made of some dark metal, and who had a flail hanging at her belt. She wore no helm and I could see that her features were those of a native of Kara-Tur. Her voice, when she spoke, was one that I had heard, once before, on a rainy night that I would never forget.

"I apologize for not being more open," she addressed me, "but these are troubled times. If I could be permitted to speak for a moment, I believe I have something you would want to hear. Perhaps we could help each other?"

"The last time we met, you helped to kill my father," I said. It took all my self-control to stop myself from drawing my sword and attacking her. Somehow, I managed to keep my voice relatively level. "Why should I trust you?"

"You may call me Tamoko," she said. "I do not presume to be your friend, or even someone you should trust, but fate demands that I place myself at your disposal. I have details worth listening to, and again I must ask if you are interested in a trade of sorts. Do you wish to hear what I have to tell?"

"Go on," I said. Safana was moving to place herself behind Tamoko, Viconia stepped sideways to flank her, and Imoen and Dynaheir stepped back slightly to give themselves room for spell-casting.

"I shall explain myself in further detail when I have time," she went on. "Until then, I have but one thing to say. The one who claims to heal Duke Eltan's sickness is also the one who breeds it. Likely there have been signs that suggested this to you, but none have said it so plain. No doubt you have the wherewithal to follow through on it. Your very nature gives you above average competence. Gorion's tutelage could only have enhanced this."

"What do you know of 'my nature'?" I asked. "Speak plainly."

"There are three things that are strength incarnate," she said. "There is love of life, there is fear of death, and there is family. A family that loves death would have a strong pull indeed. Can you… feel it? Can you feel _him_? He hates you, you know."

"I take it you're talking about Sarevok," I said. "Why does he hate me? He wanted me dead even before I started interfering with his plans. You were with him right at the start. You must know more."

"You exist, and chaos will be sown," she said. Her choice of words, echoing Alaundo's prophecy, indicated that she was aware that I was a Bhaalspawn. Presumably Sarevok, too, was aware. He had been reciting the prophecy…

"Sarevok is a Bhaalspawn too, isn't he?" I said.

Tamoko nodded. "You have guessed correctly," she said. "He believes there can only be one survivor. That is the way it was intended, although I hope to change it. Now I must go, and you must go to Duke Eltan. I shall wait near the Flaming Fist headquarters. We shall speak again, and I shall have something to ask of you."

My inclination was to prevent her leaving but Imoen hissed "Flaming Fist patrol!" I signaled to Viconia and Safana, they moved away to allow Tamoko to pass, and we vacated the area hurriedly. We made it all the way to the Flaming Fist headquarters without further encounters with patrols. Once inside the doors, however, we were confronted immediately.

"What foolishness is this?" an armored man, who was not wearing the uniform of the Flaming Fist, demanded. Are you trying to storm the Flaming Fist compound? You'll find no friends here, T'rissae. Angelo now commands the Flaming Fist. Friends of Duke Eltan can expect only death from Angelo's new order. To arms! To arms! T'rissae and cohorts have broken into the compound!"

Of course, while he was saying this, we were casting spells. The other guards, or more likely mercenaries, who came rushing to join him included mages, but by the time they came close enough to act the first man was dead and we had summoned monsters to take the brunt of their attacks. We stepped over the bodies and made our way to the stairs up to the room in which we had met Duke Eltan.

There was a guard there, but he didn't try to fight us. He remembered us from our previous visits, and knew we had been working for Scar and Duke Eltan, and he said that he was going to desert the Flaming Fist rather than get involved in what was obviously just a power struggle. He directed us to the room in which Duke Eltan could be found and told us to beware of the 'healer', Rashad, who he suspected wasn't a healer at all and who sneaked out at night to visit the Undercellar. We thanked him, although he had told us little we didn't already know or suspect, and he departed.

As soon as we entered the Duke's room we were challenged by Rashad. He called us 'stupid primates', tried to call for the guard, and transformed into a greater doppelganger. We killed him.

Duke Eltan was lying, semi-conscious, on a bed. He roused at the sound of blades hitting doppelganger flesh and, after Rashad was dead, Viconia cast a Neutralize Poison spell on him. That spell had curative powers against disease, as well as poison, and restored a modicum of health. He was able to talk but was not yet recovered enough to move freely.

He advised us that if word got out that he was alive and coherent Angelo would take steps to ensure that he was silenced permanently. The Duke asked us to take him to the Harbormaster's building, where his friend the Harbormaster could look after him until he was recovered. He passed onto us a letter from Sarevok, which he had managed to filch from the creature impersonating Rashad, that told of a plan for two assassins, named Slythe and Krystin, to assassinate Grand Duchess Liia Jannath and Grand Duke Belt. This would leave the way open for Sarevok to seize total control of the city. The doppelganger was supposed to meet them in the Undercellar and assist them in the assassination. The letter also said 'The bloodshed that will result when I declare war on Amn will be most glorious'. It almost sounded as if the bloodshed itself was Sarevok's main interest and everything else was only a means to achieving that aim.

"Very well," I said. "We'll get you to the Harbormaster and then head for the Undercellar. We might have to dodge through the sewers. I hope you're up to it."

"I will have to be," the Duke said. "Certainly, your… associate has considerably improved my condition. I fear I will still walk with difficulty, however, and you may have to aid me."

"Minsc, that's a job for you," I said. "Let's go."

Tamoko was waiting for us outside the keep.

"I see you have sought me out, as I thought you would," she said, although in fact we had only gone to the compound to get to the Duke. "I have things that must be said, things that are important to us both. I have but one condition to my discourse, and you must agree before I speak. A promise I seek, and I will accept no less."

"I won't make any promise without knowing to what it is that I am agreeing," I said.

"My promise will not harm you, though ignoring it can," Tamoko said. "Indeed, my information can only benefit. You will gain if you did not know it before, and you will gain if you knew it but needed it confirmed. The choice I pose is the only option. Are you in agreement or not?"

"Tell me what I am to promise," I said, "otherwise I cannot agree." If I made a promise, and broke it, there could be serious consequences for me. There was no way I was going to make any kind of vow without knowing exactly what I was promising. And if she wouldn't tell me, it must be something to which I was unlikely to agree willingly.

"My words are for my allies alone," she said. "If you will not make this vow to me, I will remain silent. So be it. You are much alike, you and Sarevok, which is fitting. Perhaps you are also equally doomed, though Sarevok seeks such release intentionally. I wonder if your paths could have crossed any other way? Doubtful. Siblings fight for father's favor. It is the way of things. We shall meet again, but it shall not be to talk."

She turned and walked away. We couldn't risk starting a fight here, with us burdened by the weakened Duke Eltan, and so I had to let her go. I could guess what she would have said, anyway; Sarevok was another Bhaalspawn and believed that he had to kill the other Bhaalspawn, me, in order to gain some kind of power from his divine heritage. Also, from the way he was inciting the war, he must believe that the power of the God of Murder required a lot of death before it could be attained. The problem was how to stop him, as he seemed already to have gained a lot of political power, but seeing Duke Eltan to safety and then stopping the assassins had to be our first priority.

We made it to the Harbormaster's office without conflict, evading the Flaming Fist patrols at one point by taking a short cut through the sewers, and handed Duke Eltan over to the Harbormaster's care. Next, as the Iron Throne building was only a short distance away, we headed that way.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

The people we met on the ground floor were all in the process of vacating the building. All of them talked of Sarevok ruining the business, and one complained that Sarevok had instigated the iron shortage but, instead of using it to create a monopoly and leverage the situation into massive profits for the Iron Throne, seemed to be wasting the opportunity by whipping up the populace for a pointless war against Amn. That informant was, no doubt, a despicable person but not someone who deserved death. We let him, and the others with similar complaints, leave without hindrance.

On the second floor one man did attack us, although his reasons for doing so were unclear, but I killed him before he could do us any harm. Another man, on the same floor, gave us a detailed explanation of the original plan to use the iron crisis to profit from the situation. He told us that Sarevok had had Duke Entar Silvershield assassinated, presumably to create a vacancy into which he could step, but that even political power didn't seem to be Sarevok's goal. He was entirely focused on starting a war. That merchant departed without offering violence.

Upstairs from there we met a woman who announced herself as a representative of the main Iron Throne base in Sembia, sent to find out what was going on with the Baldur's Gate branch, and she placed all the blame for it having fallen into disarray on Sarevok. When we told her that we were the ones accused of killing the local Iron Throne leaders she deduced, immediately, that it had been Sarevok who was guilty and that we were merely his scapegoats. Unfortunately, although no doubt her word would have carried considerable weight in Sembia, here she was merely an unknown foreigner and her support would be of no help to us.

On the next floor up a merchant greeted me by name but in friendly fashion. He described both me and himself as unwilling dupes of Sarevok and more or less wished me luck. Bookcases on that floor held some useful spell scrolls but none of the documentation that we hoped to find.

Then, on the top floor, we met a true enemy. A woman who announced herself as Cythandria, consort to Sarevok, and who claimed to have been with him since before he knew of his 'true heritage'. A heritage that I shared with him. She declared that he would be pleased to know that she had killed me, perhaps pleased enough for her to become 'his favored one' once again. I offered to let her go free if she turned against Sarevok. She rejected that idea as an amusing notion, said that she would never betray 'her lord', and suggested that I try my wiles on Tamoko. At that point she began to cast a Monster Summoning spell.

We had, of course, already cast ours and the two ogres that she summoned faced our ogre, hobgoblin, and two dire wolves as we filled Cythandria full of arrows. She died almost at once and her monsters, although bigger and stronger than ours, didn't last much longer. We searched her body and, at last, found something concrete.

There were two letters, addressed to Sarevok, from the assassin Slythe. In one he declared how delighted he was to accept the contract to murder three Grand Dukes of Baldur's Gate. In the other he described how he had killed Duke Entar and how much he looked forward to assassinating two more dukes in their own palace. The real prize, however, was Sarevok's diary.

I read it at once, skipping a few mundane entries, but there was plenty of material both interesting and disturbing. Sarevok's mother had been murdered by his 'father', Rieltar, because she had been unfaithful. All the mentions of Rieltar had quote marks around 'father'; presumably Sarevok had been aware for a long time that he was not really Rieltar's son. There were mentions of dreams, in conjunction with mentions of the Prophecies of Alaundo, that seemed to imply that it had been dreams that had first revealed to Sarevok that he was a Child of Bhaal.

According to the diary Sarevok had decided to go to Candlekeep, to further study the Prophecies, during the month of Nightal in 1365 DR. The tall monk I had occasionally seen around the library a little later than that time, but had never met face to face, must indeed have been Sarevok in disguise. An entry dated 11 Ches 1366 related that Sarevok had found apparent confirmation that he was a Child of Bhaal, and that he interpreted the prophecy as meaning that he needed to bring about death 'on a god-like scale' to prove his worth and become able to 'ascend'. Sarevok seemed to believe that he could become a god himself if he could cause enough deaths.

Entries covering the month of Tarsakh, 1366, mentioned him becoming concerned that Gorion was taking an interest in him, and wishing that he could simply kill Gorion, but that doing so safely wasn't feasible within the library. The first mention of me was dated the 27th of Tarsakh 1366.

_I take my leave of Candlekeep now, and not a moment too soon, for I am sure that Gorion has perceived my heritage. One thing of which I am certain: T'rissae is, in actuality, one of Bhaal's brood as well. T'rissae has all the markings, and it would explain the mystery of how a Drow comes to be in Candlekeep, and also Gorion's curiosity about my studies. Though there is nothing I can do now, I will have to make certain to return and kill the little brat. It would be foolish of me to let one of my siblings live, especially one being brought up by the Harpers (and I am sure that is where Gorion's allegiances lie). I will have to take care, as the girl is fast and agile, and surprisingly adept with a two-handed sword, although of course no match for me._

Markings? Most of my skin was smooth and unblemished, although I had a few small red birthmarks arranged in an approximate ring of dots. I had not been aware of them myself until one day Imoen had told me "Trissie, you've got a spotty bum" and I had looked at my back in a mirror. The marks were on my right buttock… and that meant that Sarevok must have spied upon me dancing naked! I shuddered.

The entries in the diary continued with an account of the setting up of Mulahey in the mines of Nashkel, the opening of the Cloakwood mine, and the mercenaries of the Black Talons and the Chill being employed to carry out the bandit raids. There was a mention of having to be wary of the Zhentarim, who would no doubt be highly displeased if they discovered that they were being blamed for the raids. Then, in an entry dated 28th of Tarsakh, 1368, Sarevok wrote that he now had the time to deal with 'that old codger Gorion, and his little whelp'. It had been on the twelfth of Mirtul when I had set out from Candlekeep with Gorion.

There was only one more entry, dated only to the current month of Eleasis without a day specified, beginning with 'No time to write, but I must not neglect my journals so. The future dead must know of how the Lord of Murder again came to them. I shall hire a scribe when time allows.' It went on to record how Sarevok planned to lure me to Candlekeep at the same time as his mortal 'father' Rieltar was there, so that he could have Rieltar killed and use me as a scapegoat.

The diary made horrifying reading but was encouraging in a sense. The details of Sarevok's crimes would clear us, provided we could get someone in authority to read the diary, and provided they accepted it as genuine. That was by no means a given, but getting it to one of the Dukes would be a good start.

I let the others read the diary, although to save time I pointed out the relevant entries, and they skimmed them quickly. Imoen spotted the passage about my markings.

"Hey, Trissie, Sarevok saw your birthmark," she said. "That means he saw you in the nude! And he still wants to kill you, not to f…"

I cut her off. "I've already noticed that," I said, "and it just gives me the creeps. He must have spied on my ritual dancing."

"Him and 'most everyone else in Candlekeep," Imoen said. "Gorion used to chase them away, when he caught them, but everybody knew about it."

"I never knew," I said. "I always thought myself unobserved." Imoen opened her mouth to say something else, and from the look in her eyes I suspected it would be something embarrassing, and so I snatched back the book and gave the command to depart.

We went back to the Harbormasters to show the diary to Duke Eltan, who was perturbed by its contents, but still in no shape to do anything about the revelations. It would be up to us. The first step would be to deal with the assassins Slythe and Krystin. They could be found in the Undercellar, the letters had revealed, and we knew that there was an entrance to the Undercellar in the Blushing Mermaid. That, then, was where we would go next. The thief Husam met us there, and offered to show us how to access the Undercellar, but we already knew our way. We descended the stairs in the inn, paid our admission fee, and entered the warren of gambling dens and brothels.

This was where one of my previous acts of generosity paid off handsomely. The courtesan Quenash, to whom I had given the charisma-enhancing cloak that had belonged to the lecherous Eldoth, informed us of the assassins' presence, told us that one of them was a powerful mage, and warned us of their approach. That gave us the opportunity to prepare in advance, with our monsters already summoned, enchanted arrows and bullets loaded, and Invisibility Purge ready on Viconia's lips. They died quickly and we stripped their bodies. A donation of a hundred Lions to the Undercellar's management ensured that the bodies would be dumped in the sewers and forgotten, and I gave another hundred to Quenash as thanks for her timely warning.

They carried numerous spell scrolls, a twice-enchanted Longtooth dagger, a thrice-enchanted short-sword, called the Shadow's Blade, claimed at once by Imoen, and – most importantly – two letters.

_The time to strike is now,_ one read_. When the party commences on the night of my coronation, you will join up with my doppelganger assassins at the sewer entrance to the palace. You are to insinuate yourself into the crowd in the ballroom. When I have finished my speech, you will strike. If you aren't there, my doppelgangers will proceed without you, and your payment will be forfeit. Make sure to keep a leash on your little bitch of a wife. An invitation to the party is included with this note._

The other letter was an invitation to the Ducal Palace for the investiture of Sarevok as Grand Duke and the subsequent celebrations. It was made out to 'Slythe and Party', with no number specified, and should serve to get all of us into the palace… as long as we could find some way of disguising our identities. And, as luck would have it, assassins were skilled in that very area and they carried paints and powders of the sort used by actors upon the stage. We might be able to use them to conceal the dark skin of myself and Viconia.

We had time in hand, it seemed, as the investiture was not until the following day. Our mages and our cleric were low on spells, after the fights, and it might take some experimentation before we could achieve the desired results with the cosmetics. I therefore decided that we would retire to the Blushing Mermaid for the night. After some practice with the greasepaints, which seemed to work fairly well for our purposes, I took the first watch whilst the others slept. Viconia relieved me after four hours and I laid down to sleep. And dreamed.

This time the dream began with me as a monster, hunted by torch-bearing mobs, and heard a voice speaking of destiny, and nature, and of evils bred in the bone. The voice claimed that murder and death ran through my heart, and that accepting that fact would give me power, and that the essence of Bhaal within me could not be ignored.

Not ignored, perhaps, but it could be fought. I had ever endeavored to stick to the principles of Eilistraee, and although I could not deny that I enjoyed testing myself in combat I took no pleasure in the kill. I had no desire for power over others, and although I had always tried to guide Viconia toward the less cruel side of Shar's worship, and to restrain Safana and Imoen from indulging their larcenous tendencies too freely, I would never compel them to obey me. If there were dark forces within me, I would do my best to turn them to good purposes.

The voice tried to sway me with threats, but they seemed empty, and I took no heed. Then there was a new voice, gentle and sweet, drowning out the first.

"I am pleased with you, Blade Dancer," the second voice said. It took me a moment to realize that it spoke in Ilythiirra. "Continue on your present course, and remain steadfast, and evil will not prevail over you."

Was that Eilistraee, speaking directly to me at last? I believed so, and hoped so, but she spoke no more and I could not be absolutely certain. Still, I drew strength from my belief, and the evil voice faded away. The dream ended, and I awoke rested, sure of my cause, and ready to do what needed to be done. And, yet again, I had been gifted with another spell of Draw Upon Holy Might. With two such spells to call on, on top of my natural abilities and those from the magical tomes I had read, there would be few indeed who could outmatch me physically. I should be able to hold my own, at the least, even against Sarevok.

Unless those powers came from the essence of Bhaal, not from Eilistraee, and Sarevok had powers of his own…

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

It felt weird to look in the mirror and see my face that pale pinkish shade that the _rivvin_ of the Sword Coast call 'white', and my hair dyed with henna to a reddish-brown shade that matched Imoen's. I looked like a Wood Elf. Viconia had been made up in the same fashion, although she had chosen to have her hair dyed black, and we had felt it best to disguise Dynaheir's race too. Her dark skin, unusual amongst the _rivvin_ of this area, might draw attention.

I felt acutely nervous; not at the prospect of battle, for by now I was well accustomed to that, but at the thought of attending a Ducal investiture and mingling with the wealthy and powerful of the city. My upbringing in a library monastery, and my experiences since leaving Candlekeep, had not prepared me for such events. It had to be done, though, and I steeled myself.

"Wow, Trissie, you look like a regular elf maiden," Imoen remarked. "Or maybe a half-elf, 'cos you're pretty tall for an elf."

"That is the idea," I said, "although it feels very strange to me."

"I am not fond of resembling a _darthiir_," Viconia said. "It is preferable to being arrested by the Flaming Fist, however. I will tolerate it."

"Boo says you look fine," Minsc said, "but that you smell funny."

"Let us hope that the guards at the palace gate do not have a sense of smell as acute as that of your hamster," I said. "Let us go."

**Glossary of Drow Phrases**

• _rivvin_ = human (plural)

• _darthiir_ = surface elf


	13. Chapter 12: Take On Me

**Chapter Twelve: Take On Me**

We passed unchallenged through the streets. A Flaming Fist patrol went by us without taking any notice. The descriptions of me that had been circulated had centered on my race and no-one was looking for a surface elf. It was still a nerve-wracking moment.

The guard on the palace gate accepted our invitation, signed as it was by Sarevok, without a quibble. We entered the palace and were again asked for our invitation, somewhat to my surprise, but again it was not a problem. We entered the main hall, which was full of noblemen and ladies, and tried to keep to ourselves at the fringes of the crowd. I had feared that we might look out of place in our armor, and bedecked with weapons, but we were not the only ones thus attired. One attractive young woman, in an extravagant ball gown, had a serviceable-looking short-sword belted at her waist; an incongruity that drew our eye, and made me suspect that she might be one of Sarevok's assassins. I kept an eye on her. Servants offered us drinks, and dainty sweetmeats, and we accepted but merely sipped slowly at the drinks. Imoen was less restrained with the sweetmeats and gobbled them down eagerly.

After a little while Grand Duke Belt and Grand Duchess Liia Jannath arrived, followed by Sarevok. He was wearing the same armor that he had worn when he slew Gorion.

"Now that all our guests have arrived," Duke Belt announced, "we can proceed with the ceremony that you have all been awaiting."

"As all of you know," Duchess Liia Jannath took over, "this is a special occasion for the city of Baldur's Gate. It is time for a new person to join the ranks of the Grand Dukes. I do not wish to downplay the tragedy we suffered with the loss of Entar Silvershield, but this is not the time to show grief."

"The votes have been tallied from the landowners," Duke Belt proclaimed, "and the result was nearly unanimous."

"Wait!" the young woman who wore the sword shouted. "I object!"

"Skie Silvershield?" Duke Belt exclaimed. "On what grounds?"

"My father isn't dead," the girl declared. "He was close to death, but I got a healer to him in time. His throat is damaged, so that he cannot as yet speak for himself, but I speak for him."

"It matters not," Sarevok's deep voice boomed out. "I have been elected as Grand Duke, and I shall lead this city through the current crisis. We shall not wait for war to come to us, but shall take the war to our enemies."

"There was no vacancy," Skie shouted. "Your election is invalid. You are not Grand Duke, and have no say in any declaration of war."

"Bah!" Sarevok exclaimed. "I have no time for this. It is not as I planned it, but I can wait no longer. Act now!"

Several of the noblemen transformed into greater doppelgangers and began to cast Mirror Image and Haste. At once all was confusion. The majority of the guests fled in panic, getting in our way, as we made for the doppelgangers. Dynaheir's summoned monsters only added to the chaos. Duchess Jannath cast Mirror Image and Duke Belt drew his sword. The Flaming Fist guards attacked the doppelgangers, to my relief, for I had feared they would oppose us.

The doppelgangers concentrated their attacks on the two Grand Dukes, trying to avoid confrontation with the guards, and my comrades loosed our most deadly enchanted shafts and bullets at the creatures every time they had a clear line of sight. Dynaheir directed her monsters to block the doppelgangers' path and I, using my Boots of Speed, rushed to interpose myself between the doppelgangers and the Grand Dukes. Skie Silvershield back-stabbed a doppelganger, surprisingly efficiently, and then went for Sarevok. He back-handed her across the face with his mailed gauntlet and sent her flying back across the room.

Someone cast a spell that banished our summoned monsters and cleared the way for the doppelgangers. Duke Belt was struck by their claws and went to his knees, badly hurt, but Viconia reached him and cast her most powerful healing spell. I decapitated the doppelganger responsible. Duchess Liia Jannath lost some of her Mirror Images but remained unhurt. Then all the doppelgangers were down, dead, and we had a breathing space. I didn't feel we could yet attack Sarevok, as the only blow he had struck had been in self-defense, and I waited. Viconia went to attend to Skie Silvershield's injury.

"What is the meaning of this?" Duke Belt demanded.

"Take a look through this," I said, pulling out the diary. "It is Sarevok's diary. He's the one who set up this attack, and that on Duke Entar, and nearly had Eltan killed."

"You!" Sarevok growled. "I recognize you from your sword style. You are T'rissae. Guards! Those people are wanted on multiple counts of murder. Kill them!"

"They are not to be touched!" Duke Belt countermanded. "No-one move until I finish reading this alleged diary."

"You don't need to read that," said Sarevok, "but, since you're too stupid to take my advice, I'll just take your head." He drew his huge sword and went for the Duke. I put World's Edge in the way and blocked his strike.

Everyone attacked Sarevok but he concentrated on me. I was hampered by there being people around me, who unlike my own group could not anticipate my strikes, and I had to take care not to strike friend rather than foe. Sarevok had no such qualms to hamper him and managed to land several hard blows on me, not penetrating my armor but jolting me and driving me back, and I think the impact broke at least one of my ribs. We had cast no spells nor taken any potions in advance, as we had not wanted to be showing signs of magic on our entrance to the event, and I had not had a chance to cast Draw Upon Holy Might since the fight started. Sarevok almost matched me for strength, had an advantage in reach, and at least equaled me in skill. I landed a couple of blows on him but without apparent effect.

Then Skie Silvershield, her face smeared with blood below her nose, stabbed Sarevok in the back. The blow glanced harmlessly from his cuirass, but distracted him, and I took advantage of it to land a solid strike that separated a pauldron from his armor's shoulder. Magic Missiles, from Dynaheir, Imoen, and Grand Duchess Liia Jannath struck Sarevok and he staggered back.

"You and I aren't finished yet, T'rissae," Sarevok growled, shoving Skie aside and retreating quickly through the gap that had opened up. The crowd prevented me from following up quickly enough to keep pace with him. "I'll kill you, just as I killed Gorion. The only way you'll ever live in peace is if you kill me first."

I made it through the press, and went for him, but two swirls of magic appeared, one around Sarevok and one around a nondescript man who had played no part in events thus far, and both of them disappeared.

"Where's he gone?" Skie snarled. "I'll kill him!"

Duke Belt opened the diary and glanced at the last entry. "So, your tale is true," he said. "I think it is in your best interest to hunt Sarevok and kill him before he does the same to you."

"I agree," I said, as Viconia used a scroll to cast a healing spell upon me. "The problem is going to be finding him."

"Through the power of my god, I should be able to divine his location," Belt said. "One moment… ah. He has been teleported to a location in the East Quarter, suspected to be the lair of the Thieves' Guild. I will dimension fold you to the same place. From there you can follow him, and kill him. Good luck!"

"Hey!" Skie Silvershield protested. "Send me too. I have the right."

"Certainly not!" the Duke snapped. "Whatever would your father say if I allowed you to imperil yourself that way?"

I gathered my comrades around me, so that none of them would be left behind, and the Duke turned away from Skie Silvershield and cast his spell. The sensations I felt were the same as when Tethtoril had teleported us out of our cell in Candlekeep. A moment later we found ourselves standing in the main room of the Thieves' Guild building.

"What is this?" one of the thieves exclaimed. "It seems that everyone's crashing in on the Guild these days. First that huge armored guy, and now you! You'd better tell me what you're here about, and right quick, or you're in a lot of trouble!"

"Easy, Denkod," Safana said. "We are Guild members in good standing." The thief took his hand away from his sword-hilt and others, who had been rushing toward us, stopped.

"We're chasing Sarevok, the huge armored man," I said. "Where did we go?"

"He went down the stairs right over there," said Denkod, pointing. "He was sure in a hurry. If you're going after him, it'd probably be a good idea for you to get a bit more prepared than you look. Down there's the thief warrens, and they're really dangerous."

"An advanced training area," Safana explained. "There will be many traps, and perhaps some monsters, to test the skill of high-ranking thieves to their limits."

"Uh, that's what it started out as, but it's a bit more lethal than that these days," Denkod said. "More of a barrier to stop anyone getting into this place from underneath. You might want to talk to Black Lily, over by the stairs, before you go down. She'll give you good prices on equipment. I hear she even has some magic stuff."

"What I really want is a cloth to wipe my face," I said. I had broken a sweat, during the fight, and it felt as if the greasepaint was starting to run. I didn't want to risk it getting into my eyes.

"I also," said Viconia. There were thin streaks of darker skin showing through her paint.

"I expect Black Lily will have one," Denkod said, raising his eyebrows.

She did, and Viconia, Dynaheir, and I got cleaned up and our skin restored to its normal appearance. There was nothing that could be done about our hair but that was unimportant. We bought a few extra potions but otherwise felt that our equipment needed no additions. We said farewell to the thieves and descended the stairs.

They led to a room in which an injured lady thief lay bleeding on the floor. She spat out curses at us, weakly, but Viconia hastened to cast a healing spell upon her and she relaxed.

"It was Sarevok who cut me down, the bastard," she told us. "Recognized him from when I did a bit of… exploring… of the Iron Throne a few days back. I'll be all right, he was in too much of a hurry to do a good job on me. You've got my blessings if you're hunting him down."

"Would you be up to guiding us through the maze to help us catch him?" I asked.

She snorted. "Hah! No, I won't be doing that. I ain't ever seen anyone walk out of that maze alive. I ain't got no wish to meet the undead that maintain her, nor the jellies that keep her clean."

"Where does the maze lead?"

"I don't rightly know," she said, "although it is said there's a city below this one. Some smart-arse archaeologist sage might be able to tell you more. Not a proper city, you understand, just the remains. Not surprising, really. If the site Baldur's Gate is built on is so appealing, it would figure that there would have been one built here before Balduran's time. Nothing but dead down there now. If you want to catch that bloke, you'd better get moving."

"Rest you well," I wished her, and we moved on cautiously.

We traversed the maze, a laborious and frustrating journey, encountering traps, green slimes, ochre jellies, Doom Guards, and skeleton warriors. All little threat to us, these days, but dealing with them was time-consuming and annoying. Eventually we made it to what appeared to be the end of the maze and, just like at the entrance, found someone bleeding on the floor.

It was the nondescript man who had teleported Sarevok away from the Ducal Palace. He was badly wounded but Viconia cast only her weakest healing spell upon him, just enough to enable him to talk.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"Winski Perorate I am, conjurer and sage," he said. "I was Sarevok's mentor, and tutored him in the blackest of rituals, only now to be cast aside. He needs me no more. His plans are in ruins. Such glorious goals they were, too, although none but me understood the true desire behind them."

"I don't understand them myself," I said. "What were his plans? This war with Amn makes no sense, unless it is that he believed he could gain some of Bhaal's power by orchestrating the deaths of great numbers of innocents."

"Ah, you have an inkling of his aims," Winski said. "You have followed his every move. Likely you are driven by the same desires as well, though you have channeled them in a different fashion. Indeed, the war with Amn was not his true goal. Sarevok is no profiteer. The slaughter was all he wanted, with enough lives lost in the initial battles to ignite the fire in his divine blood. He thought that death on the appropriate scale would cause him to Ascend. Perhaps he really would, but who can say? If you have the arrogance of a god, and can kill like a god, who is to say that you are not a god?"

"He's no god," I said, "and I will prove it. Where has he gone?"

"You have stripped him of any pretense, and there is no longer any point in maintaining his respectable veneer," Winski said. "Only his most fanatical, or fearful, allies stand by him now. He knows that you must come after him and it is to his advantage to choose the battleground. There is an altar in the Undercity. It was to be where the ritual was to take place, but now it serves as his last refuge. If you do not go to him, he will strike you at his leisure."

"I will go," I said. "As for you, you will live to be accountable for your part in this."

"Your charity is admirable. You have definitely taken a different path to Sarevok, although I wonder if it will truly matter in the end," he said. "Leave me. I am no longer a threat to you, or anyone. I shall just rest here for a while."

We went through the door at the end of the maze and emerged onto a slope that led down to a vast underground cavern. The tumbled walls of ruined buildings flanked the path but ahead of us we could see a massive building, substantially intact, that had the air of a temple. There was a surprising amount of light, some of it sunlight filtering down from small fissures overhead, some of it bioluminescence from fungi. Bats squeaked and fluttered overhead.

"This is like my home," Viconia remarked, "but home does not welcome me."

"You would be welcome wherever I make my home," I said, "as would all of you."

"When we return to Rashemen you must visit us there," Minsc said, "although it is very far."

"I wouldst echo that sentiment," Dynaheir said, "but I must warn thou that thou might not be welcomed amongst our people. There is much bad blood between the Rashemi and the Drow."

"I could put on the greasepaint again," I said, facetiously, but Dynaheir took me seriously.

"That would not be wise," she said, "for the wychlaran are perceptive, and any othlor wouldst see through thine deception."

"I did but jest," I told her. "We must kill Sarevok before we can think about homes."

We checked out the ruins on the left-hand side of the path, rather than heading directly for the temple, as I did not want anything to come out of them and take us in the rear. Imoen and Safana both sniggered when I said that. The investigation may well have been a wise course, for the ruins were crawling with undead, ghouls and zombies and skeletons. They were not hard to kill but their numbers were great. Eventually we had cleared the ruins of potential enemies and made for the main path again. There we encountered a group of six adventurers, one of whom was a huge ogre, and they spoke, at first, rather than immediately attacking.

They were a group working for the main Iron Throne headquarters in Sembia and they had been sent to kill Sarevok because of the damage that he had done to the Throne's interests. I thought at first that they could ally with us against Sarevok but it was not to be. They saw that I was a Drow and deduced that I was T'rissae, and that I had been working against the Iron Throne, and declared that I, too, had to die.

We were caught slightly off balance, and had no summoned monsters or spells prepared, but I charged at the leader as he drew his bow. He loosed an arrow at me, and struck me squarely on the breast-plate, and the arrow must have been one of Detonation because it exploded in a fiery blast. Unfortunately for him I was wearing two Rings of Fire Resistance, and was barely singed by the flames, whereas he and his companions were not so lucky. My Boots of Speed had brought me to such close range that the explosion enveloped his party and left the other members of mine untouched.

The Iron Throne group did not recognize the danger that we presented and wasted time in shouting abuse at the man who had subjected them to friendly fire. My companions began to pelt them with missiles, and Dynaheir summoned monsters into their midst, and the mage in their party made another catastrophic mistake and cast Cloudkill on them heedless of the fact that they were far too close. The Sembians choked on the lethal fumes, I fled the cloud at utmost speed, and again they were far more hurt than was I. Our monsters died, but Dynaheir simply summoned more and positioned them to trap the Iron Throne people in their own cloud of poison. Only one of them made it out of the Cloudkill alive and I slew him with two swift strokes.

The fallen of the Iron Throne yielded magical arrows, and a few other things of value, although nothing else that we could use immediately. As we stripped the bodies someone else approached.

This time it was Tamoko.

"Greetings once again, T'rissae," she said. "I fear this time I have not come to talk, but must take up arms against you. You have done what you must, I suppose. Sarevok knows of my treachery, you know. He has forsaken me, left me to die in your path. I must fight to regain his trust, his… attention. And so I stand before you, knowing that if I defeat you he will continue his plans elsewhere, and I shall lose him, and if you defeat me, you shall go on to kill him. He will not yield to either of us. I have… I have no choice."

She had helped to kill Gorion, presumably because she loved Sarevok and so followed him, and I wanted to kill her. Yet I knew I should not kill purely out of revenge. If at all feasible I should leave punishment to the lawful authorities and resort to violence myself only to remove a present threat or to punish one who could not be dealt with any other way. I suppressed my anger and acted as I felt would be correct for a Silverhair Knight – even if my hair was currently red-brown in hue.

"There is always a choice," I told her. "Do not throw your life away."

"There may always be choice, but the choosing has become unbearable," she said. "I have but two duties, and both leave me little hope. No, young one, I must face you now."

"If you are set on this, then I cannot have you stop me," I said, and the fight began.

She cast a spell of Flame Strike at me, doing me little harm, and I struck back with my sword. Her armor looked to be at least as strong as that of the late Taurgosz Khosann, which had proved impregnable to Minsc's blows, and she bore a large shield, but her helm was light and open-faced. I slashed at her legs, causing her to bring her shield down, and then quickly reversed my sword and delivered a murder-stroke at her head with the pommel. She reeled back, stunned, and I reversed the sword again and stabbed her in the face. That was the end of the fight.

Her armor was, indeed, impressive. Dynaheir identified it as a suit known as the Plate of the Dark, once the property of an undead warlord, enchanted full plate that was significantly better than my Fallorain's Plate and not greatly heavier. She was smaller than me but the armor bore a minor size-changing charm and adjusted to fit me perfectly.

Now, at last, we were ready to face Sarevok for the final time.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Before we entered the temple, we drank potions and cast spells giving us as much protection, and boosting our attacking power, to the greatest extent possible. Potions of Heroism, of Storm Giant Strength, of Speed, of Defense, of Mind Focusing, of Fire Resistance, and of Magic Protection. Then, cautiously, we opened the massive doors and entered.

Inside was a great hall, showing signs that once it had been richly decorated, but now the tapestries were hanging in tattered rags. An emblem was set into the flagstones in the center of the hall, a flat disc some twenty feet across, bearing the sign of a huge and grim skull surrounded by a ring of teardrop shapes. The emblem of Bhaal… and, I now realized, the birthmark on my buttock must represent the ring of tears.

At the far side of the hall was a raised platform on which was a gilded altar. In front of the altar stood Sarevok, a brutish figure matching Sarevok in height who fit the descriptions we had heard of Tazok, and a man who would have been tall in other company but was dwarfed by his present companions. He wore the uniform of a Flaming Fist officer and I guessed him to be Angelo.

Safana warned us of traps along the sides of the hall, and set into the circular disk in the center, and we avoided those areas. Dynaheir opened proceedings by dropping a Cloudkill on the area of the altar, Imoen used a wand to summon monsters, and the battle was on.

A mage appeared between us and the emblem of Bhaal, shrouded in the glowing aura of a protective spell, but it must only have been Protection From Normal Missiles because our enchanted missiles quickly took him out of the fight for good.

Sarevok, Tazok, and Angelo were all formidable fighters and slew our monsters quickly but our two mages replaced them as quickly as they fell. Our enemies were pinned within the area of the Cloudkill, being pelted with the most powerfully enchanted arrows and bullets we possessed, for longer than we could have hoped. Dynaheir and Imoen each unleashed a fireball and Minsc and Safana loosed Arrows of Detonation. Angelo fell first. Tazok managed to cut a path through the monsters, although it was obvious that he was badly hurt, and dueled with Minsc. Sarevok also broke out and made for me.

"You are indeed family," he called, as he slew an ogre. "No other could have lived to oppose me in person. Of course, it will not matter in the end. Ultimately, I will prevail, and a new era will be born unto the Realms."

"You are mad," I said, as I set down my crossbow and drew my sword. "What do you hope to gain by resurrecting a dead god?"

"Father Bhaal is dead, but the slaughter I shall orchestrate will prove me to be his most worthy successor. It will raise his power from the ashes. The streets will run red with blood by the time I am finished."

"Successor? Deities are not known for sharing their power willingly," I pointed out.

"Fool!" Sarevok bellowed. "I do not wish to _restore_ his power, merely to _raise_ it! With the divine blood that flows through these veins, I shall assume control over that which he so foolishly lost. I shall _become_ Bhaal. All that is left is for us to end this in a manner… befitting our heritage. Face me! Face the new Lord of Murder! Dare you pit your blade against mine in single combat, you Drow who foolishly calls yourself a paladin?"

By now Tazok was dead, back-stabbed by Imoen and finished off by Minsc, and there was nothing to stop us simply avoiding Sarevok and bombarding him with missiles and spells until he went down. I wanted to prove a point, however, and accepted his challenge.

"Hold back, everyone," I called. "I'll take him on. Sarevok, you killed Gorion, and many others, and you don't deserve an honorable end, but I'll grant you one anyway." I raised the World's Edge. "Let's dance."

And we fought. Sarevok was strong, and fast, and skilled. Had I gone into battle unprepared, and fought him on even terms, I have no doubt that he could have overcome me. Now, however, he was already hurt, and I was fresh, and enhanced by potions and spells. Even without them I would have been faster than him, although his greater weight and reach would have compensated, but with the potions I was superior to him in every aspect. His blade lashed out in mighty strokes that I either parried or simply avoided, dancing away, letting him waste his strength on empty air. Then he raised his sword for a mighty downward stroke and I slipped aside. His armpit, protected only by mail, was exposed and I thrust home. When I withdrew my blade a gout of blood spurted forth.

"You… you…" Sarevok croaked, barely audibly, and he gasped for breath. I must have pierced a lung. He made one more effort to strike at me but I knocked his blade aside, stepped in, took my blade in a half-sword grip and drove the point into the gap where his visor was made to resemble a monster's maw. It sank in deep, he staggered back, and his sword dropped from his hands and clattered away across the stone floor. A moment later Sarevok toppled and lay, motionless, sprawled across the emblem of Bhaal.

I stood for a second, breathing hard from exertion, and felt a rush of relief and of triumph. I heard Viconia shout "_Ultrinnan!_" and cries of congratulation from the others. Then I saw something remarkable happening to Sarevok's corpse.

Golden sparks of light, like motes of dust in a sunbeam, began to rise from the body. They became a stream, flowing like a river of gold toward the altar, and in their wake the corpse began to wither away and disintegrate. The stream of golden sparks reached the altar and disappeared where it touched, as if it was being sucked into the stone, whilst the body shrunk and crumbled into dust. In moments there was nothing left of the body at all, not even the armor Sarevok had worn, and the last of the glowing motes vanished into the altar.

"Well, that's something you don't see every day," Imoen commented.

"Most remarkable, indeed," Dynaheir said. "No doubt something to do with the essence of Bhaal."

I felt somewhat horrified. Would the same thing happen to me when I died? Would it stop me from joining Eilistraee in the afterlife? I hoped not, but I had a horrible feeling that it might. And the Prophecies of Alaundo had spoken of 'a score of mortal progeny'. Were there other Children of Bhaal out there, and, if so, would others of them try to make use of their heritage to seek power? Would some emulate Sarevok and seek to eliminate a potential rival, namely me?

"Hey, don't look so glum!" Imoen said. "We won. I say we go back to the city and have a party."

"From victory to an inn, as our people say," Viconia added.

Safana looked up from where she was already looting the body of Angelo. "And, as well as enjoying ourselves," she said, "let's see if we can get our noble but uptight leader to let her hair down and relax. Maybe we can even get her to unbend enough to get laid."

**The End**

Author's note: If you hadn't already noticed, the story title is a pun on the title of a single by A-Ha and the chapter titles are all taken from A-Ha singles or albums (although, of course, _Manhattan Skyline_ was changed to _Baldur's Gate Skyline_). The story will continue through _Siege of Dragonspear_ in the sequel, currently well under way, although I've run out of well-known A-ha songs (except for _The Sun Always Shines On TV_, which doesn't fit the setting) and, as yet, I haven't been able to think of an alternative theme for a title.


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